IC-NRLF 


IE  VANGUARD 


•vATRINA  TRASK 


IN  THE  VANGUARD 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK   •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO 
DALLAS   •    SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON   •    BOMBAY  •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


IN  THE  VANGUARD 


BY 

KATRINA   TRASK 


fork 

THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 
1913 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1913. 

BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  March,  1913. 


PRESS  OF  T.   MORET  St.   SON, 
GREENFIELD,  MASS.,  U.  S.  A. 


ACT  I 

SCENE  I 


IN   THE  VANGUARD 
ACT  I 

SCENE  I 

MAY  DAY 

The  Village  Green 

Many  large  trees  stand  upon  the  Common.  Flowering  shrubs 
grow  in  profusion  upon  the  turf.  To  the  East,  pic 
turesque  houses  are  seen  through  the  trees;  to  the  West, 
the  distant  hills.  Here,  the  Common  is  more  open; 
there  are  no  trees.  In  the  open  space,  several  girls  are 
gaily  dancing;  their  light  draperies  are  blown  by  the 
wind.  Dancing,  they  wind  in  and  out  of  a  long  garland 
woven  of  flowers,  and  as  they  dance,  they  sing. 

THE  GIRLS 

Singing. 

Merrily  dawns  the  month  of  May! 
Primroses  pink  and  white, 
The  golden  sun  is  glad  to-day: 
The  stars  will  laugh  to-night. 
Weave,  weave  the  garland  gay, 
To  greet  the  month  of  May! 

3 

M165795 


4  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

O  happy  are  the  song-birds  now, 
May's  plumage  on  their  breasts! 
Secure  within  the  blossoming  bough 
They  build  their  hidden  nests. 
Weave,  weave  the  garland  gay, 
To  greet  the  month  of  May! 

FIRST  GIRL 

Eagerly,  stopping  the  dance. 
There  comes  Elsa! 

SECOND  GIRL 

Disdainfully. 

Bah!    I  hate  her  proud  ways. 

FIRST  GIRL 

Indignantly. 

Proud?  —  Elsa?  —  How  absurd !   Elsa  is  adorable ! 

SECOND  GIRL 

Not  proud?  Look  at  the  way  she  carries  her  head ! 
She  looks  as  though  she  thought  we  were  the  dust 
under  her  feet. 

FIRST  GIRL 

She  can't  help  the  way  her  head  is  set  on  her 
shoulders!  She  walks  like  that  in  her  bath-room. 
The  Girls  laugh. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  5 

She  does!  I  was  there  the  other  day  —  She  was 
washing  her  hands  —  and  she  looked  like  one  of 
the  statues  in  the  new  Museum  that  Mr.  Greart 
gave  to  the  town;  that  one  where  the  goddess  is 
standing  before  the  altar;  Elsa  looked  as  though 
she  were  performing  a  religious  rite. 

THIRD  GIRL 

What  a  goose  you  are,  Molly!  Elsa  is  awfully 
nice,  but  she  isn't  much  like  a  goddess;  she  wears 
too  good  clothes. 

SECOND  GIRL 
She  is  too  top-lofty  for  me;  I  don't  like  her! 

MINNIE 

Sarcastically. 

Poor  Elsa!    How  can  she  possibly  bear  it! 

ONE  OF  THE  YOUNGER  GIRLS 
Impetuously. 

I  love  her!  What  do  you  think,  Minnie?  Do  you 
think  she  looks  like  a  goddess? 

MINNIE 
I  think  she  is  herself  —  that  makes  her  a  goddess! 


6  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

TIHRD  GIRL 

You  always  talk  such  conundrums,  Minnie.    How 
could  she  be  anyone  but  herself? 

MINNIE 
Easily  —  we  none  of  us  are. 

THIRD  GIRL 
Are  what? 

MINNIE 
Ourselves. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 

Who  inherits  her  Father's  lack  of  humour. 
Who  are  we  then? 

MINNIE 

I  am  my  Father  in  second  edition,  Lizzie  is  her 
Mother  in  abstract;  you  are  — 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 
Well,  what  am  I? 

MINNIE 
O  never  mind! 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  7 

FIRST  GIRL 
Here  comes  Elsa ! 

Between  the  trees,  at  the  East  end  of  the  Common,  a  young 
girl  enters;  her  swift  step  gives  the  suggestion  of  winged 
feet.  She  bears  herself  proudly,  and  yet  with  a  gracious 
directness  and  simplicity;  she  is  tall,  lithe,  beautiful; 
she  is  dressed  in  unrelieved  white;  she  carries  an  open 
book;  this  is  Elsa. 

THE  GIRLS 
Come,  Elsa!    Come,  join  our  May-dance! 

The  Girls  hold  out  the  garland  to  Elsa  and  begin  to  sing  again. 

THE  GIRLS 
Singing. 

"Weave,  weave  the  garland  gay"  — 

ELSA 

O  stop  dancing  —  Girls.  Sit  down  —  listen  —  I 
have  something  to  read  to  you !  I  have  found  the 
most  delicious  thing!  It  is  a  picture  of  what  we 
all  feel  these  days  —  these  stirring  days,  when  war 
is  in  the  air. 

Elsa  sits  upon  the  turf.  The  girls  throw  down  the  garland 
and  seat  themselves  around  her. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 
Elsa,  did  you  know  Jack  is  going  to  the  war? 


8  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

ELSA 
With  a  nod  of  approbation. 

Certainly  —  he  is  a  soldier. 

SECOND  GIRL 

Looking  at  Elsa  keenly. 
How  about  Philip? 

ELSA 

Evasively. 

Philip  is  not  a  soldier. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 

Philip  is  a  lawyer.  Father  told  me  yesterday 
that  Philip  has  been  offered  a  partnership  with 
Stickley  and  Stowett.  Father  says  that's  wonder 
ful  for  so  young  a  man.  Did  you  know  it,  Elsa? 

ELSA 

Philip  told  me.  (Drawing  herself  up,  the  colour 
rising  in  her  cheeks).  I  wish  I  were  a  man  — 
nothing  should  keep  me  from  this  glorious  war  — 
this  fight  for  the  right. 

SECOND  GIRL 

Aside. 

Affectation. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  9 

ELSA 
Shall  I  read? 

THE  GIRLS 
Yes  — Yes  — Read! 

ELSA 

This  is  an  ancient  chronicle;  —  but  it  is  as  modern 
as  we  are!  What  joy  to  find  in  a  book  the  things 
one  has  always  said  in  one's  own  heart! 

MINNIE 

Isn't  it?  I  had  an  idea,  for  a  long  while,  which  I 
cherished  in  secret  and  wouldn't  tell  anyone  —  I 
was  afraid  they  would  think  me  raving  mad  or  an 
imbecile  —  one  day  I  was  reading  a  new  scientific 
book  of  Father's,  and  there  I  found  my  secret  idea 
set  forth  at  great  length  as  the  newest  discovery  in 
science. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 
What  was  it? 

MINNIE 
I  wouldn't  tell  you  for  a  tiara. 


io  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 
Why  not? 

MINNIE 
You  wouldn't  think  it  proper. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 
Oh—! 

FIRST  GIRL 

Go  on,  Elsa!    Minnie,  don't  interrupt  again.    You 
always  interrupt. 

MINNIE 
I  always  have  something  to  say,  that's  the  reason. 

Two  young  men,  Philip  and  Jack,  appear  at  the  left  —  the 
trees  hide  them  —  they  are  unseen  by  the  girls,  who  are 
absorbed  in  Elsa  and  her  book.  Jack  is  a  dapper, 
handsome  little  man  with  merry  eyes  and  a  pert  mous 
tache.  Philip  is  tall  and  sinewy,  as  clean-shaven  as  a 
monk.  His  eyes  are  the  eyes  of  a  dreamer  but  his  chin 
and  mouth  are  the  chin  and  mouth  of  a  man  of  action 
and  of  power.  He  is  not  handsome  —  at  least  that  is 
the  first  impression  —  but  after  one  has  decided  that 
he  is  not  handsome,  one  turns  to  look  at  him  again. 
Few  of  the  girls  have  decided  the  question,  but  the  per 
petual  discussion  of  it  between  them  holds  evidence  in 
Philip's  favour. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  n 

ELSA 

Turning  over  the  leaves  of  her  book. 

I  won't  read  the  story  —  only  this  paragraph  which 
I  must  share  with  you. 

Reading  with  a  responsive  thrill  in  her  voice. 

"The  Maiden  was  very  beauteous  to  behold;  she 
was  the  daughter  of  an  ancient  Sage,  greatly 
honoured  of  all  men.  The  Sage  was  a  builder  of 
books,  of  vast  learning  and  of  great  knowledge. 
The  renown  of  his  wisdom  had  spread  throughout 
the  kingdoms  of  the  world. 

"Now  the  maiden  cared  not  overmuch  for  the 
musty  books  and  dusty  parchments  of  her  Father; 
she  loved  great  and  doughty  deeds,  perilous  ad 
ventures,  the  clash  of  arms,  and  knights  victorious, 
the  crowned  conqueror  in  the  lists,  the  triumphant 
in  battle. 

"And  lo!  The  Maiden  sat  in  the  ancient  Hall  of 
the  moated  castle,  and  suitors  came  to  her  — 
according  to  the  choice  and  will  of  her  Father. 
One  came,  a  learned  scholar,  a  master  of  languages 
long  dead.  One  came,  a  tribune  of  the  people, 
much  versed  in  state-craft.  One  came  who  knew 
the  science  of  the  stars  and  the  secrets  of  the  earth. 
"  From  beneath  lowered  lashes  the  Maiden  looked 
on  each  —  she  looked  and  turned  away. 


12  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

"'Thou  art  difficult  to  please,  my  Daughter,'  her 
Father  said  with  grave  displeasure. 
"The  Maiden  answered  with  scornful  lips  and 
proud  disdain,  '  Father,  I  will  marry  none  but  a 
Hero/ 

"Straightway,  she  clasped  her  mantle  around  her, 
drew  her  veil  across  her  face,  and  went  out  from 
the  Hall  into  the  forest.  Deep  in  the  heart  of  the 
forest,  she  threw  back  her  veil,  unclasped  her 
mantle,  and  stretching  wide  her  arms  looked  up  to 
the  sky,  which  glimpsed  between  the  branches  of 
the  trees;  she  laughed  softly  and  said  over  and 
over,  as  though  it  were  a  song  she  loved  to  sing, 
"'I  will  marry  none  but  a  Hero.7  She  waited  as 
for  a  reply,  and  then,  added,  still  laughing  low, 
' Books  are  dreary  and  stale;  wisdom  is  for  the 
aged  and  the  weary;  but  a  free-born  maiden,  with 
warm  red  blood  throbbing  through  her  veins,  will 
only  lay  down  the  shield  of  her  heart  to  a  Man  of 
Valour  —  a  Doer  of  Deeds  —  a  Hero.7  " 

Elsa  pauses. 

THE  GIRLS 

Clapping  their  hands. 

Good  — Good!    Splendid!    True! 

Philip  and  Jack  step  out  from  behind  the  trees;  the  girls  start 
with  surprise,  and  rise. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  13 

JACK 

My  eyes,  what  a  hoity-toity  young  lady!  I  say, 
Philip,  she  was  a  suffragette.  Those  men  were 
well  out  of  it  with  that  minx ! 

PHILIP 
She  wasn't  a  minx,  Jack,  she  was  a  sphinx. 

ELSA 
Quickly. 

What  was  her  riddle? 

PHILIP 
Her  own  heart. 

JACK 
I  say,  Elsa  —  heroes  don't  grow  on  bushes. 

ELSA 
Scornfully. 

Alas !  That  is  too  true  —  they  are  rare  enough  to 
be  museum  specimens. 

PHILIP 

Speaking  with  mock  solemnity. 

Your  analysis  proves  you  have  not  studied  the 
subject,  Mademoiselle. 


14  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

ELSA 
With  more  heat  than  the  fun  warrants. 

Indeed  I  have  studied  it  —  and  searched  for  it  — 
them,  I  mean  —  and  I  do  not  find  it  —  them,  I 
mean  —  except  in  books. 
Philip  looks  at  her  a  moment  and  then  bows  low. 

PHILIP 
In  an  inimitable  voice. 

O  Maiden,  more  charming  than  wise, 

'Tis  not  he  who  valiantly  dies 
Who  alone  is  the  Hero!    Ah  me! 
The  bravest  of  heroes  is  he 
Who  dares  to  look  deep  in  your  eyes. 

The  girls  laugh. 

ELSA 

With  bewitching  mockery. 

Sir  Poet  —  of  Stickley  and  Stowett!  — 

I  pray  you  let  your  Hero  know  it; 

If  his  valour  depends 

On  the  eyes  of  his  friends, 

It  were  better  for  him  to  forgo  it. 

The  girls  laugh. 

JACK 
That's  one  on  you,  Phil. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  15 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 

Holding  out  her  hand  to  Philip  with  e fusion. 

I  must  congratulate  you,  Philip.  Father  told  us 
about  Stickley  offering  you  a  partnership.  He 
said  it  was  tremendous  luck  to  be  taken  into  that 
Firm. 

PHILIP 
Thank  you. 

MINNIE 

0  why  did  you  come  —  you  men?  You  have 
spoiled  everything.  Elsa,  please  read. 

JACK 

Yes,  do,  Elsa.  I  want  to  know  what  happened  to 
that  sphinx-minx  in  the  woods.  I'll  bet  she  cried 
quarts  before  the  day  was  up,  and  spoiled  her 
best  veil. 

SEVERAL  or  THE  GIRLS 
Read,  Elsa.    Read! 

ELSA 

Smiling. 

In  this  presence?    Never! 


16  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

MINNIE 
Well  then,  I'm  going  home,  it  is  time  for  luncheon. 

JACK 

I  call  that  mesmerism,  Minnie.  I  have  been  willing 
you  to  go,  for  the  last  half  hour. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 
Jack,  are  you  really  going  to  the  war? 

JACK 
You  bet  I  am! 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 
How  awful! 

JACK 
Awful?    It's  perfectly  bully! 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 
But  you  might  get  shot. 

JACK 

Shot?  Imagine  me  shot!  How  would  I  look  shot? 
That's  not  my  style.  No,  my  dear,  I  bear  a 
charmed  life.  Bullets  cannot  penetrate  the  pan 
oply  of  armour  that  I  wear. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  17 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 
Really? 

JACK 
Really  and  truly,  black  and  bluely.    Ask  Minnie. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 
What  does  he  mean,  Minnie? 

MINNIE 

Scornfully. 

I  haven't  the  faintest  idea;  neither  has  he. 

JACK 

I  say,  Minnie,  it  isn't  becoming  to  your  beauty, 
when  you  curl  your  lip  like  that!  If  you  don't 
start  soon,  I'll  give  up  my  belief  in  mesmerism. 

MINNIE 
Come,  Elsa. 
Elsa  is  far  too  clever  to  spoil  a  t&e-drt&e. 

ELSA 

I  want  the  air.  I've  not  been  dancing  all  the 
morning.  Au  revoir. 

Minnie  and  Jack  walk  off  together  and  the  other  girls  follow, 
two  by  two.    Elsa  sits  again  upon  the  turf. 


i8  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

PHILIP 

Courteously. 

May  I  stay,  Elsa? 

ELSA 
The  Village  Green  is  free. 

PHILIP 

Not  now.  When  you  are  here  it  is  royal  ground. 
I  have  something  to  tell  you.  May  I  stay? 

Elsa  waves  her  hand  to  the  turf  with  a  gracious  acquiescence. 
Philip  throws  himself  upon  the  ground  and  looks  up 
into  her  face.  He  looks  at  her  a  moment,  then  speaks 
as  though  compelled. 

You  are  very  beautiful. 

ELSA 

A  trifle  impatiently. 

Is  that  your  news?    I  do  not  like  personalities. 

PHILIP 

Pardon  me,  that  is  your  limitation.  You  should 
be  so  impersonal  that  you  are  above  personalities; 
you  should  be  so  free  from  egoism  that  you  are 
unconscious  of  the  ego. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  19 

£LSA 

Laughing. 

You   always   make   nonsense   sound   like   sense, 
Philip.    What  is  your  news? 

PHILIP 

I  told  you,  the  other  day,  of  the  good  fortune  that 
has  come  to  me  — 

ELSA 

Somewhat  scornfully. 

0  that!  —  (She  rises  and  makes  a  sweeping  cour 
tesy).     I  salute  you,   Mr.  Attorney-at-law  —  of 
the  firm  of  Stickley  and  Stowett  —  Counsellor, 
Judge,  Lord  Chief  Justice- to-be! 

PHILIP 

Seriously. 

No  —  it  is  not  that. 

ELSA 

Looking  at  him  with  sudden  apprehension. 
Has  anything  happened,  Philip? 
She  sits  again  beside  him. 

PHILIP 

1  have  thrown  up  the  place  —  I  have  enlisted. 


20  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

ELSA 

With  shining  eyes. 
Enlisted?  —  You? 

PHILIP 

Yes.  Why  not  I?  I  have  always  intended  to  go, 
from  the  very  first  moment,  but  I  did  not  talk  of 
it.  I  should  rather  be  a  soldier  than  anything  in 
the  world!  My  fingers  ache  to  punish  that  out 
rageous  Nation  for  its  cruel  oppression  —  I  long 
to  be  a  part  of  the  rescue  to  the  oppressed.  I 
waited,  hoping  that  I  might  be  able  to  get  a  Com 
mission  —  I  thought  I  could  arrange  it,  but  I 
cannot;  I  have  no  political  pull;  neither  has  Father; 
so  I  have  enlisted  as  a  private  for  a  year.  They 
think  the  war  will  be  short,  sharp  and  decisive. 
They  are  taking  volunteers  for  a  year.  I  shall  have 
to  win  my  Commission  before  the  year  is  up. 

ELSA 
With  kindling  enthusiasm. 

You  will  win  it!  Did  you  not  always  win,  in  all 
the  games  and  in  everything  you  ever  tried  to  do? 

PHILIP 

Significantly. 

No  —  not  always,  Elsa. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  21 

ELSA 

Ignoring  his  evident  meaning. 
You  will  win  in  war. 

PHILIP 
I  take  that  as  a  prophecy. 

ELSA 
Why  did  you  not  tell  me  you  intended  to  go? 

PHILIP 
I  did  not  tell  anyone. 

ELSA 

With  glowing  cheeks. 

But  I  am  not  anyone  —  and  you  talked  with  me 
only  last  week  of  your  future.  You  told  me  of 
Stickley's  offer. 

PHILIP 

With  emotion. 

That  was  the  warrant  for  my  daring.  I  should  not 
have  waited  all  these  months  except  that  I  had  to 
know  my  future  was  secure.  After  I  left  the 
University,  I  did  not  know  where  I  stood;  my 
luck  came  sooner  than  I  thought;  and  the  moment 
it  came,  I  went  to  you,  for  then  I  had  a  warrant; 


22  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

now,  I  have  a  double  warrant  —  the  Army  and 
the  Law;  Stickley  says  he  will  keep  my  place  open 
for  any  length  of  time.  (With  a  crestfallen  air). 
But  — 

ELSA 

Interrupting,  her  cheeks  glowing. 
Philip,  I  will  tell  you  a  secret  —  a  great  secret. 
I  was  frantic  the  other  night,  when  you  spoke  to 
me;  I  have  been  for  weeks  —  disappointed,  an 
gry,  —  that  you  were  settling  down  to  Law  when 
I  felt  you  should  go  to  war  —  to  this  glorious  war! 

PHILIP 

Smiling. 

That  is  no  secret;  I  knew  it  all  the  time;  and  I 
knew,  also,  all  the  time,  that  I  was  going. 

ELSA 
Embarrassed. 

Philip,  you  are  so  —  so  — 

PHILIP 
Well! 

ELSA 

So  different  from  other  men  —  (after  a  pause,  a 
sudden  tenderness  welling  within  her). 
Will  you  forgive  me? 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  23 

PHILIP 

Astonished  at  the  word. 

Forgive  you? 

ELSA 

Yes  —  for  doubting  you  —  for  the  limerick  —  O 
for  everything!    Will  you? 

PHILIP 
I  love  you. 

Elsa  starts  —  the  colour  sweeps  over  her  face  and  brow. 

I  promised  you,  Elsa,  that  I  would  not  speak  to 
you  again,  just  yet  —  but  —  if  I  live  — 

ELSA 
Her  voice  trembling. 

If  you  live! 

PHILIP 

If  I  come  home  victorious  —  then  I  will  ask  you 
once  more  the  question  of  my  heart. 

Elsa  turns  toward  Philip;  the  colour  deepens  in  her  cheeks, 
the  light  deepens  in  her  eyes.  She  hesitates  for  a  mo 
ment;  she  is  about  to  lift  the  veil  of  her  reserve;  she  looks 
across  the  Common;  then  rises  quickly,  and  as  though 
to  throw  ojf  her  emotion,  speaks  lightly  and  with  the 
bright  gaiety  for  which  she  is  distinguished. 


24  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

ELSA 

I  must  go  home  at  once  or  Mother  will  be  sending 

out  the  Town  Crier. 

She  starts  to  move  away;  Philip  starts  to  follow  her. 

No,  —  please,  —  Philip.  —  Don't  come.    Look  — 

John  Judson  is  crossing  the  Common  —  intercept 

him  —  let  me  escape  —  I  could  not  stand  him 

just  now. 

She  walks  away  swiftly. 

PHILIP 

Looking  after  her. 

I  will  win!  —  And  I  will  win  her! 


ACT  I 
SCENE  II 


ACT  I 

SCENE  II 
A  WEEK  LATER.    MORNING 

The  Village  Green 
A  group  of  excited  and  expectant  boys  on  the  Green. 

THE  BOYS 

Singing. 

Get  your  gun,  get  your  gun, 

And  shoot  them  every  one. 

Let  them  fly,  let  them  die, 

Let  them  perish  as  they  run. 

Get  your  gun,  get  your  gun, 

0  go  and  get  your  gun! 
Several  girls  run  in. 

FIRST  GIRL 

Did  you  see  the  soldiers?    Aren't  they  jolly?  — 
the  brass  buttons  and  the  gold  braid. 

SECOND  GIRL 

My  stars!    How  handsome  the  men  look  in  their 
uniforms ! 

27 


28  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

THIRD  GIRL 
Do  they  march  this  afternoon? 

FIRST  BOY 

Yes,  and  they  are  going  to  drill  now,  down  by  the 
Old  Mill.    Don't  miss  'em. 

Music  is  heard  in  the  distance.    The  Boys  all  run  of. 

THE  GIRLS 
Come  —  let  us  go,  too ! 

They  follow  the  Boys. 
Enter  El-sa. 

ELSA 

Eagerly. 

Martial  music !    How  thrilling  it  all  is !    Even  Jack 

looks  transformed  —  and  as  for  Philip  — 

Enter  Philip,  hurriedly;  he  wears  the  uniform  of  a  private. 

PHILIP 

Elsa  —  I  am  glad  —  you  are  here  —  I  went  to 
your  house  —  I  feared  I  should  miss  you  — 

ELSA 
A  pprehensively. 

What  is  it,  Philip? 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  29 

PHILIP 
I  came  to  say  good-bye. 

ELSA 
Startled. 

Good-bye?    To-day?  —  I  thought  your  regiment 
did  not  go  until  next  week? 

PHILIP 

The  plan  is  changed  —  we,  also,  march  this  after 
noon. 

He  holds  out  his  hand.  Elsa  silently  puts  her  hand  in  his  — 
he  looks  down  at  her  earnestly;  to  his  surprise  he  sees 
tears  in  her  eyes;  his  face  becomes  illumined;  his  voice 
vibrant  with  emotion. 

Elsa  —  I  know,  now,  that  I  may  hope. 

Elsa  unfastens  a  rose  from  her  bodice  and  gives  it  to  him  for 
answer. 

He  kisses  it. 

A  rose  of  promise !    I  will  keep  it  until  death. 

ELSA 

Trembling. 

Don't  say  that  word! 


3o  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  I 

PHILIP 

Laughing  lightly. 

I  face  death  to  find  new  life. 

Elsa  with  ejfort  throws  of  the  shadow  from  her  spirit. 

ELSA 

Don't  you  remember  when  we  were  at  school,  you 
called  me  "Sybil,"  for  you  said  what  I  predicted 
always  came  to  pass?  Let  me  prophesy  now.  You 
will  win  —  honor  —  victory  —  fame! 

PHILIP 
And  then  —  Elsa? 

ELSA 

Fascinatingly. 

O  then  you  will  be  Captain. 

PHILIP 
And  then  —  Elsa? 

ELSA 

Almost  inaudibly. 
You  will  be  the  '  Captain  of  my  Soul/ 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  31 

PHILIP 
My  Beloved. 

He  takes  her  hand  and  bends  over  it  reverently. 
The  notes  of  a  bugle  are  heard  in  the  distance. 
Elsa  —  I  must  go  —  Good-bye. 

ELSA 

Softly. 

Good-bye. 

She  swallows  a  lump  in  her  throat  and  blinks  fast;  she  draws 
herself  up,  stands  at  attention  and  makes  a  salute,  as 
she  has  seen  the  men  do  at  drill;  all  the  while  she  is 
laughing  and  sparkling. 

Philip,  catching  the  spirit  of  her  resolve,  gives  the  military 
salute,  with  distinction,  and  leaves  her,  marching  off 
to  the  right;  when  he  reaches  the  trees  which  will  shut 
Elsa  from  his  sight,  he  stands  still,  and  looks  back  at 
her  for  a  moment,  his  soul  in  his  eyes.  Then  he  dis 
appears. 

ELSA 

Looking  towards  the  trees  which  hide  Philip  from  her  sight. 
O  Philip  —  Philip  - 
She  bursts  into  tears. 


ACT  I 

SCENE  III 


ACT  I 

SCENE  III 
Two  MONTHS  LATER.    AFTERNOON 

The  Village  Green 

Two  boys  are  wrestling.     Four  other  boys,  standing  about, 
applaud  and  urge  them  on. 

FIRST  BOY 
Go  it,  Jim  —  I  bet  on  you. 

SECOND  BOY 
Give  it  to  him,  Billy  —  Give  it  to  him! 

A  Seventh  Boy,  greatly  excited,  runs  in  from  the  left. 

SEVENTH  BOY 

Shouting. 

Hello!    D'you  want  to  hear  the  news? 

The  boys  stop  wrestling  and  all  gather  around  him  with 
curiosity;  with  much  satisfaction,  he  keeps  them  waiting 
a  few  minutes,  holding  his  news  in  leash  and  looks 
from  one  to  the  other  with  an  air  of  importance. 
35 


36  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

FIRST  BOY 
Out  with  it!    Out  with  it! 

SECOND  BOY 
What's  the  matter  with  you? 

SEVENTH  BOY 

With  the  air  of  a  herald. 
We've  won  a  battle! 

Great  excitement  follows. 

SECOND  BOY 
Honest?    No  guy? 

SEVENTH  BOY 

Honest  Injun.    News  just  come  in.  —  Whipped 
Jem  to  a  frazzle! 

The  boys  set  up  a  loud  cheer  and  begin  to  make  things  gener 
ally  hideous  with  antics  and  noise. 

FIRST  BOY 
Looking  across  the  Common. 

Cheese  it!    Cheese  it!    Stop  your  hollering.    There 
comes  the  G.  O.  M. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  37 

SECOND  BOY 

O  he  doesn't  mind  noise.    ,  Hurrah  —  he's  home 
again!    He's  a  brick! 

THIRD  BOY 
You  bet  he's  a  brick. 

FIRST  BOY 
He's4 a  cracker-jack  and  golly  but  he's  rich! 

FOURTH  BOY 

He's  a  brick  and  a  cracker-jack  all  right,  but  he 
preaches  too  much. 

THIRD  BOY 

Shut  up!    His  preaching's  a  sight  better  than  the 
Rector's.    It  hasn't  got  any  religion  in  it. 

FIRST  BOY 

O  yes  it  has;  it's  got  the  kind  of  religion  that  gets 
inside  of  you. 

FOURTH  BOY 
In  an  awed  voice. 

Father  says  he's  an  awful  infidel. 


38  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

FIRST  BOY 

What  are  you  giving  us?  It's  a  blamed  shame  to 
call  the  G.  0.  M.  names  and  don't  you  forget  it. 
Look  at  this  town  —  what  would  it  be  if  it  weren't 
for  him? 

FOURTH  BOY 
Who  is  a  prig. 

Giving  money  and  building  buildings  don't  make 
a  man  good.  No  Sir-ee!  There  he  is!  Maybe 
he'll  tell  us  about  his  trip. 

FIRST  BOY 

Gee  hoo!  There's  the  Rector  coming  the  other 
way,  no  use  trying  to  talk  to  the  G.  O.  M.  now. 
Let's  run,  lickety  split !  I  haven't  been  to  Sunday 
School  in  a  month.  No  juvenile  court  for  me  this 
afternoon,  if  you  please. 

SECOND  BOY 
Nor  for  me  —  not  on  your  life ! 

The  boys  give  the  street  yell  and  run  away  just  as  Mr.  Greart 
enters  at  the  left  and  the  Rector  enters  at  the  right. 

Mr.  Greart  is  a  very  young  man  very  many  years  old.  He  has 
silver  white  hair,  eyes  as  brown  as  a  robin1  s  and  as  keen  as 
an  eagle's.  He  has  an  irresistible  smile,  and  carries 
himself  as  erect  and  as  straight  as  an  old  pine  tree  of 
the  forest;  every  boy,  every  girl,  and  every  little  child  in 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  39 

the  village  loves  Greart.  He  is  lavishly  generous  to  the 
children,  but  his  generosity  is  tonical  and  not  enervat 
ing.  He  stimulates  rather  than  spoils  them  by  his  in 
dulgences. 

The  Rector  is  a  pompous  man  with  an  ingratiating  smile, 
but  expressionless  eyes;  he  wears  extreme  clerical 
dress  —  he  lifts  his  hat  with  exaggerated  deference, 
and  speaks  in  low  unctuous  tones. 

THE  RECTOR 

Good  morning,  Mr.  Greart  —  Good  morning! 
Glad  to  see  you  home  again.  I  hope  you  are  well, 
Sir  —  quite  well? 

MR.  GREART 
Thank  you,  Doctor,  I  am  very  ill. 

THE  RECTOR 

111,  Sir?  —  111? -- You  don't  tell  me;  I  am  sorry 
to  hear  that.  Nothing  serious,  I  hope  —  nothing 
serious. 

MR.  GREART 
The  most  serious  thing  in  civilization  —  War. 

THE  RECTOR 

Puzzled. 

I  don't  think  I  follow  you,  Sir,  I  don't  think  I 
follow  you. 


40  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

MR.  GREART 
This  accursed  war  has  made  me  bilious. 

THE  RECTOR 
Accursed  war,  Sir?    Why,  this  is  God's  holy  war. 

MR.  GREART 

Laughing. 

That  is  the  kind  of  God  you  worship?  No  wonder 
the  churches  are  empty! 

THE  RECTOR 

Drawing  himself  up. 

We  number  three  hundred  and  fifty  communicants, 
and  the  present  Confirmation  Class  numbers 
twenty-five  —  a  goodly  number  —  a  goodly  num 
ber. 

MR.  GREART 

My  dear  Doctor,  don't  you  know  that  your  com 
municants  might  number  three  hundred  thousand, 
if  you  preached  a  logical  God? 

THE  RECTOR 

Ingratiatingly. 

Pardon  me,  my  dear  Mr.  Greart,  if  I  make  a  sug 
gestion,  in  a  friendly  way,  all  in  a  friendly  way. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  41 

This  habit  of  facetiousness  you  indulge  in,  I 
fear  affects  your  influence.  /  understand  it,  my 
dear  Sir,  but  others  may  not.  I  know  that  your 
heart  is  in  the  right  place.  It  is  true  that  you  are 
not  a  member  of  the  Church,  but  you  are  most 
generous  to  Her,  always.  By  the  by,  I  really  must 
thank  you  again,  although  you  forbade  me,  for 
our  most  magnificent  Parish  House.  You  don't 
know  what  you  have  done  for  us  —  you  don't 
know  what  you  have  done. 

MR.  GREART 

I  know  perfectly  well;  you  needed  it  sadly.  I  did 
it  for  the  children. 

THE  RECTOR 

It  was  not  for  the  children  that  you  added  my 
ample  and  luxurious  study  —  it  was  a  munificent 
gift,  Mr.  Greart,  a  munificent  gift,  and  I  thank 
you. 

MR.  GREART 

Cordially. 

I  am  glad  you  like  it,  Doctor;  your  life  of  self- 
sacrifice  deserves  good  gifts. 


42  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

THE  RECTOR 

Elated. 

You  are  very  generous  in  what  you  say  —  praise 
from  Sir  Hubert,  you  know!  —  Praise  from  Sir 
Hubert! 

MR.  GREART 

By  the  by,  Doctor,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  add  a 
theatre  to  the  Parish  House,  and  give  the  children 
good  plays  on  Sunday  after  Sunday  School. 

THE  RECTOR 

Mr.  Greart!  —  I  really  —  I  must  say  —  A  theatre 
after  Sunday  School! 

MR.  GREART 
You  know  we  differ,  Doctor. 

THE  RECTOR 

Yes,  Sir  —  but  I  had  hoped  —  it  has  been  a  great 
pleasure  to  see  you  in  the  sanctuary,  of  late  —  a 
very  great  pleasure. 

MR.  GREART 
It  amuses  me  to  go. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  43 

THE  RECTOR 

Startled. 

Amuses  you,  Sir? 

MR.  GREART 

Lack  of  logic  always  amuses  me.  Logic  is  the 
foundation  of  life. 

THE  RECTOR 

Irritated. 

I  fail  to  understand  you,  Mr.  Greart. 

MR.  GREART 

The  last  Sunday  I  was  at  Church,  before  I  went 
away,  you  talked  most  eloquently  about  the  God 
of  Battles,  and  ended  with  an  invocation  to  the 
God  of  Peace;  how  can  a  logical  God  possibly  be 
a  God  of  Battles  and  a  God  of  Peace  at  the  same 
time? 

THE  RECTOR 
Peace  after  battle,  Mr.  Greart,  Peace  after  battle. 

MR.  GREART 

That  is  not  Peace,  that  is  merely  the  cessation  of 
hostilities,  merely  a  negation.  Peace  is  a  posi 
tive  —  a  great  constructive,  conclusive,  abiding 


44  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

force  —  an  altitude  of  the  soul  —  the  soul  of  a 
person  or  the  soul  of  a  nation. 

THE  RECTOR 
My  dear  Sir,  if  you  read  history  — 

MR.  GREART 

Interrupting. 

I  have  read  history,  that's  what's  the  matter.  I 
find  that  all  the  wars  in  the  world  have  never 
stopped  war.  The  clever  philosopher,  Christ,  who 
had  a  way  of  seeing  all  around  a  subject,  was  quite 
right  when  He  said,  "They  that  take  the  sword 
shall  perish  with  the  sword"  —  they  always  do  — 
it  has  been  the  final  nemesis,  sooner  or  later,  of 
all  warlike  nations. 

THE  RECTOR 

In  a  reproach/til  and  solemn  tone. 

Our  blessed  Lord,  Who  is  not  a  philosopher  but 
Who  is  "Very  God  of  Very  God"  said,  "I  come 
not  to  bring  Peace  but  a  sword." 

MR.  GREART 

A  trifle  sharply. 

I  cannot  hear  Christ's  words  so  misinterpreted; 
I  admire  Him  too  profoundly. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  45 

THE  RECTOR 

With  asperity. 

Tut,  tut  —  Mr.  Greart. 

MR.  GREART 

The  word  Christ  used  is  separation,  division,  — 
' '  I  come  not  to  bring  Peace  but  Separation. ' '  Even 
if  sword  is  the  correct  translation,  it  is  perfectly 
manifest  it  is  used  as  an  illustration.  Christ 
says  —  "I  came  not  to  send  Peace,  but  a  sword. 
For  I  am  come  to  set  a  man  at  variance  against  his 
father,  and  the  daughter  against  her  mother,  and 
the  daughter-in-law  against  her  mother-in-law.'7 
Do  you  think  the  great  Teacher  meant  for  one  mo 
ment  that  it  was  His  mission  to  bring  a  sword  — 
as  such  —  between  a  mother  and  a  daughter?  — 
Fiddle-de-dee ! 

THE  RECTOR 

Growing  red  in  the  face. 
I  must  say  — 

MR.  GREART 

For  Heaven's  sake,  why  can't  we  use  the  same 
common  sense  in  interpreting  the  words  of  Christ 
that  we  do  in  interpreting  the  words  of  any  other 


46  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

writer  or  teacher?  Shakespeare,  for  example, 
says  —  "Jocund  day  stands  tiptoe  on  the  misty 
mountain  tops." 

Nobody  is  fool  enough  to  argue  from  those  words 
that  Shakespeare  thought  day  was  a  veritable 
maiden  with  actual  toes. 


THE  RECTOR 

Distinctly  ruffled. 

Really,  Mr.  Greart,  you  have  a  most  irreverent 
way  of  speaking;  at  times  you  seem  almost  profane. 

MR.  GREART 

I  can  understand  a  man  defending  war  on  pagan 
grounds,  but  I  protest  in  the  name  of  Justice 
against  making  Christ  an  apologist  for  war;  he 
is  the  Apostle  of  Peace,  and  it  irritates  me  to 
have  perfectly  manifest  meanings  twisted  to  suit 
the  belligerent  spirit  of  humanity.  In  this  in 
stance,  at  least,  which  is  the  one  most  often  quoted, 
it  is  quite  ridiculous  to  believe  that  the  word 
sword  is  not  used  as  an  illustration  of  separation. 
There  is  always  a  sharp  sword  of  separation  divid 
ing  two  persons  of  diametrically  opposite  views 
of  life  —  dividing  you  and  me,  for  example. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  47 

THE  RECTOR 
With  an  assumption  of  dignity. 
I  fear  we  are  very  definitely  divided. 

MR.  GREART 

Goodnaturedly. 

Certainly;  I  believe  in  Peace;  you  believe  in  War; 
the  sword  of  the  spirit  separates  us  completely. 

THE  RECTOR 

Losing  his  temper. 

Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  do  not  believe  in  Peace? 
I  — I?  — 

"How  beautiful  are  the  feet  of  them  that  preach 
the  Gospel  of  Peace !" 

MR.  GREART 

With  one  lung  you  do  breathe  the  benediction  of 
Peace  most  eloquently,  but  with  the  other,  my 
Friend,  you  certainly  blow  the  trumpet  of 
Battle! 

THE  RECTOR 

Stiffly. 

I  bid  you  good  morning,  Mr.  Greart. 


48  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

MR.  GREART 

Holding  out  his  hand  in  a  way  no  one  could  resist. 

Now  please  don't  be  offended,  Doctor.  I  cannot 
for  the  life  of  me  mix  the  two  any  more  than  I  can 
mix  darkness  and  daylight.  It  is  all  a  matter  of 
logic;  if  you  can  show  me  how  to  do  it,  I  shall  be 
grateful,  for  I  delight  in  mental  gymnastics. 

THE  RECTOR 

Faith  is  higher  than  logic,  Mr.  Greart  —  Faith  is 
higher  than  logic. 

MR.  GREART 

I  grant  you  that  —  as  much  higher  as  the  arch 
springing  from  the  pavement  is  higher  than  the 
foundation;  but  it  must  be  a  faith  founded  on 
logic. 

THE  RECTOR 
Softening  to  a  patronising  tone. 

You  have,  sometimes,  a  strange  manner,  Mr. 
Greart,  but  I  think  you  are  all  right  at  heart. 

MR.  GREART 

With  his  irresistible  smile. 

Thank  you.  Doctor,  I  like  your  article  on  "  Bees  " 
in  "The  Country  Gentleman."  I  read  it  with 
much  interest.  It  is  well  done. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  49 

THE  RECTOR 

Much  mollified. 

That  is  very  kind  of  you.  I  hope  I  shall  see  you 
at  Even  Song  to-day,  Mr.  Greart.  We  are  to  have 
a  special  thanksgiving  for  this  great  victory  vouch 
safed  to  us. 

A  quizzical  look  comes  into  Mr.  Greart' 's  eyes;  he  has  often 
been  heard  to  say  that  he  finds  few  things  so  humorous 
as  the  Rectorjs  utter  lack  of  the  sense  of  humour. 

MR.  GREART 

That  reminds  me.  I  had  a  most  remarkable  dream 
last  night. 

THE  RECTOR 

Dreams  interest  me  extremely.  Since  the  time 
of  Joseph  they  have  been  significant. 

MR.  GREART 

I  wonder,  Doctor,  if  you  can  interpret  my  dream 
for  me ! 

THE  RECTOR 
Pray  let  me  hear  it. 

MR.  GREART 

I  dreamed  that  I  stood  upon  a  high  place  between 
the  heavens  and  the  earth,  and  I  saw  before  me  a 


50  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

beautiful  angel  with  shining  opalescent  wings,  and 
I  knew  in  my  dream  that  it  was  Sandalphon,  the 
Angel  of  Prayer.  He,  it  is,  the  legend  says,  who 
stands  ready  to  carry  the  prayers  of  the  children 
of  men  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts. 

THE  RECTOR 

Most  interesting,  my  dear  Sir,  most  interesting. 
I  know  the  old  legend  well. 

MR.  GREART 

And  in  my  dream,  it  was  as  in  the  legend,  the 

prayers,    ascending,    changed   into   flowers    that 

Sandalphon  might  carry  them  to  the  Lord.    And 

I  heard  a  mighty  murmur  — 

"Save  this  people,  O  Lord! 

"Deliver  us  from  the  hands  of  our  enemies.    Abate 

their  pride,  assuage  their  malice,  smite  them  and 

bring  destruction  upon  them.     Grant  us  victory, 

O  Lord."    And  I  knew  it  was  the  prayers  of  the 

men  of  the  East  going  forth  to  war  with  the  men 

of  the  West.    As  I  waited,  I  heard  another  mighty 

murmur  — 

"Save  this  people,  0  Lord! 

"  Deliver  us  from  the  hands  of  our  enemies.    Abate 

their  pride,  assuage  their  malice,  smite  them  and 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  51 

bring  destruction  upon  them.  Grant  us  victory, 
O  Lord." 

And  I  knew  it  was  the  prayers  of  the  men  of  the 
West,  going  forth  to  fight  the  men  of  the  East. 
There  stood  Sandalphon  —  and  I  assure  you,  he 
looked  as  puzzled  as  a  Dutch  lawyer. 

THE  RECTOR 

Growing  angry. 

Tut,  tut —  Mr.  Greart! 

MR.  GREART 

A  tough  problem  for  Sandalphon,  wasn't  it?  Most 
embarrassing  position,  I  must  say,  to  carry  to  the 
Lord  the  same  prayers  from  opposite  camps.  You 
are  right,  Doctor;  faith  is  higher  than  logic,  but 
one  side  or  the  other  is  up  against  it,  in  that  kind 
of  faith. 

THE  RECTOR 
Sir  —  Sir  — 

MR.  GREART 
No  offence,  Doctor!    It  was  only  a  dream. 

To  the  manifest  relief  of  the  Rector,  who  is  glad  of  any  straw 
to  save  the  situation,  Elsa  comes  tripping  across  the  Common. 


52  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

THE  RECTOR 

Holding  out  his  hand  to  detain  her. 
How  do  you  do,  Elsa? 

ELSA 
Shaking  hands. 

How  do  you  do,  Rector.  Isn't  the  news  splendid? 
Turning  to  Mr.  Greart,  holding  out  her  hand  to  him. 

Mr.  Greart,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you!  We  have 
missed  you!  The  village  is  not  the  same  place 
when  you  are  away. 

MR.  GREART 
Thank  you,  Elsa. 

ELSA 

Turning  to  the  Rector. 

I've  had  a  letter  from  Jack  —  all  is  going  famously! 

THE  RECTOR 

Teasingly. 

No  letter  from  Philip? 

ELSA 

Frankly,  the  colour  rising  to  her  cheeks. 
Yes,  from  Philip,  also. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  53 

With  enthusiasm. 

He  is  making  his  mark!  He  doesn't  say  so  —  he 
is  too  modest,  but  I  see  it  between  the  lines,  and 
Jack  says  he  is  winning  distinction  every  day. 

MR.  GREART 
Philip  is  a  fine  fellow! 

THE  RECTOR 

Elsa,  what  do  you  think?  Mr.  Greart  doesn't 
approve  of  the  war;  we  have  been  having  quite 
an  argument  on  the  subject. 

ELSA 

Looking  at  Mr.  Greart  in  surprise. 
You  do  not  approve  of  this  war? 

MR.  GREART 
Smiling. 

My  dear  young  lady!  When  you  open  those  great 
eyes  of  yours  like  that,  and  fix  them  upon  me  in 
reproach,  I  am  so  rattled  that  I  do  not  know  what 
I  do  or  do  not  believe. 

ELSA 
Pleadingly. 

No,  but  seriously  Mr.  Greart,  don't  you  think 
this  war  is  glorious?  Don't  you  think  it  is  our 


54  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

duty  to  punish  a  Nation  that  has  behaved  so 
abominably? 

MR.  GREART 

I  do  not  precisely  see  the  logic  of  behaving  abomin 
ably  ourselves  in  order  to  punish  another  Nation 
for  behaving  abominably  to  some  one  else. 

ELSA 
Impatiently. 

That  is  not  fair! 

MR.  GREART 
In  a  more  serious  tone. 

My  child,  I  do  not  believe  in  war. 

ELSA 

Amazed. 

You  do  not  believe  in  war? 

MR.  GREART 

Smiling. 

Never  —  for  any  reason  whatsoever. 
ELSA 

With  the  air  of  a  doctrinaire. 

What  would  become  of  the  manly  virtues? 


ACT  i]  IN  THE   VANGUARD  55 

MR.  GREART 

Now,  Elsa,  you  are  not  speaking  your  own  lan 
guage.  You  are  using  the  idioms  of  tradition. 
Your  words  sound  like  your  Father  and  your 
Grandfather. 

ELSA 

Impetuously. 

All  right,  then;  I  will  say  it  in  my  own  words.  I 
do  not  want  my  brother,  nor  my  men  friends, 
to  be  molly-mushes. 

THE  RECTOR 
Excellent,  Elsa!    Excellent! 

MR.  GREART 

My  fair  Hypatia,  if  you  are  teaching  young  men, 
let  me  recommend  you  to  a  certain  valuable  old 
book,  a  Book  of  Life  and  Truth,  which  hits  the 
bull's  eye  with  unerring  precision  every  time. 
There  you  will  find  these  words  —  "He  that  ruleth 
his  spirit"  is  better  "than  he  that  taketh  a  city." 
You  may  teach  your  young  men  that  there  is 
the  fullest  scope  for  every  manly  virtue,  every 
virile  quality  in  the  category  for  the  man  who 
even  tries  to  conquer  himself. 


56  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

ELSA 

With  an  impatient  toss  of  her  head. 

What  would  a  Nation  be  without  its  heroes? 

MR.  GREART 
Nothing;  but  let  us  have  the  Heroes  of  the  Durable. 

THE  RECTOR 
Heroes  of  the  Durable?    I  do  not  follow  you. 

ELSA 

What  do  you  mean  by  Heroes  of  the  Durable? 
It  sounds  like  an  incantation. 

MR.  GREART 
Do  you  know  what  Napoleon  said  at  St.  Helena? 

ELSA 
With  enthusiasm. 

He  is  one  of  my  Heroes!  I  thought  I  had  read 
everything  he  ever  said,  but  I  do  not  remember 
anything  about  the  "Heroes  of  the  Durable." 

MR.  GREART 

He  did  not  use  that  term,  but  he  said  this:  "The 
more  I  study  the  world,  the  more  am  I  convinced 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  57 

of  the  inability  of  brute  force  to  create  anything 
durable." 

ELSA 
Did  Napoleon  say  that? 

MR.  GREART 

He  did;  but  he  said  it  too  late;  he  said  it  after 
he  had  shed  rivers  of  blood,  mangled  myriad 
armies,  desolated  and  depopulated  the  world;  we 
may  learn  of  him  and  arrive  at  his  final  conclusion 
in  the  beginning,  if  we  will. 

ELSA 

With  heat. 

He  didn't  mean  it !  He  only  said  it  to  get  even  with 
his  destiny  when  he  was  at  St.  Helena,  and  could 
not  use  brute  force  any  longer. 

MR.  GREART 

What  did  Napoleon  gain  by  all  the  barren  glory 
of  his  arms? 

ELSA 

Ardently. 

He  gained  my  love ! 


58  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

MR.  GREART 

With  old-fashioned  gallantry. 

That  is  the  first  argument  that  I  have  ever  heard 
in  favour  of  war  that  has  made  the  slightest  im 
pression  upon  me. 

ELSA 

Thoughtfully. 

How  can  there  be  Heroes  of  the  Durable? 

MR.  GREART 

Those  who  have  sacrified  self  to  service  —  the 
Scientists,  the  Educators,  the  Upbuilders  of  the 
Nation,  the  Reformers,  those  are  the  true  heroes  — 
those  who  give  and  spend  themselves  for  the  Dur 
able  —  the  eternal  forces  of  life. 

ELSA 

With  glowing  cheeks  and  eyes. 

You  may  have  them  all!  Give  me  the  brave 
fighters;  keen-eyed,  long-limbed,  daring  soldiers, 
who  go  forth  fearlessly  to  fight  for  the  Right,  ready 
to  spend  their  strength  and  spill  their  blood  for 
their  country. 

Mr.  Greart  looks  at  Elsa  admiringly  and  smiles  at  her  en 
thusiasm. 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  59 

THE  RECTOR 

Dogmatically. 

This  is  the  world  we  live  in,  Mr.  Greart,  a  world 
of  flesh  and  blood  —  Eternity  lies  beyond. 

MR.  GREART 

Eternity  is  now!  If  eternity  has  not  begun  now, 
then  there  is  none  beyond. 

Elsa  ponders  these  words;  the  Rector  opens  his  mouth  to 
answer  but  changes  his  mind  and  the  subject  at  the 
same  time. 

THE  RECTOR 

Come  to  the  Rectory  and  have  a  cup  of  tea.  My 
wife  will  be  glad  to  see  you. 

MR.  GREART 

Thank  you,  but  you  must  excuse  me.  I  am  already 
late  for  an  engagement.  Good  afternoon,  Elsa. 
Good  afternoon,  Doctor. 

THE  RECTOR 
Good  afternoon,  Sir. 

ELSA 

Farewell  —  I  will  see  you  to-morrow. 
Exit  Mr.  Greart. 


6o  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  i 

THE  RECTOR 
With  Pharisaic  precision. 

"A  rich  man  shall  hardly  enter  into  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven." 

ELSA 

Indignantly. 

Rector!  If  Mr.  Greart  can't  enter  Heaven,  then  I 
do  not  wish  to  go  there. 

THE  RECTOR 

Do  not  speak  like  that,  Elsa.  It  is  not  seemly. 
(Smiling  indulgently).  But  I  thought  you  did  not 
agree  with  Mr.  Greart. 

ELSA 

About  war?  Of  course  I  do  not  agree  with  him. 
He  is  entirely,  completely,  outrageously  wrong 
about  that;  but  I  do  not  have  to  agree  with  him  to 
know  he  is  just  the  cleverest,  dearest,  noblest, 
truest  — 

THE  RECTOR 

Interrupting. 

Come !  Come !  Elsa !  What  will  be  left  for  your  old 
Rector? 


ACT  i]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  61 

ELSA 

Mischievously. 

I  do  not  see  any  old  Rector. 

THE  RECTOR 

Who  has  a  secret  but  well-known  pride  in  the  preservation  of 
his  face  and  form. 

Well,  well,  you  always  know  how  to  get  out  of  a  pit. 
Will  you  come  to  the  Rectory  for  tea? 

The  sound  of  drums  is  heard  in  the  distance  and  Elsa's 
twinkling  feet  keep  time  to  the  tattoo. 

ELSA 
With  pleasure ! 


ACT  II 

SCENE  I 


ACT  II 

SCENE  I 

THREE  MONTHS  LATER 

In  the  Enemy's  Country 

A  room  that  was  once  exquisitely  dainty,  but  is  now  muddy, 
dirty,  and  enveloped  in  tobacco  smoke.  Delicate  fem 
inine  articles  lie  soiled  or  broken  on  the  floor.  A  soldier 
is  lounging  in  a  plush  chair,  his  feet  upon  a  low  carved 
table  from  which  have  fallen  several  bits  of  bric-a-brac. 
He  has  in  his  hand  a  dainty  little  fan  with  the  end  of 
which  he  is  stuffing  tobacco  into  his  pipe.  Four  other 
soldiers  are  playing  cards  at  a  table. 

Philip,  in  uniform,  sits  at  an  open  piano  and  drums  upon 
the  keys. 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

Shouting. 

Hie,  you  girl,  there!    Hurry  up  with  that  beer! 
Don't  forget  the  biscuit  and  cheese.     Damn  it! 
What  keeps  you  so  long? 
Philip  continues  to  play. 

SECOND  SOLDIER 
Throwing  down  a  card. 

I  play  the  ace.    Give  us  a  song,  Gordon! 

6s 


66  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  n 

A  young  girl  enters  bearing  a  pitcher  of  foaming  beer  and  a 
tray  with  glasses,  biscuit,  and  cheese.  She  is  a  slight 
refined  girl.  She  is  trembling,  and  her  face  is  very  pale; 
baffled  hatred  is  in  her  eyes;  she  hurriedly  places  the 
tray  and  the  beer  on  the  table,  and  turns  to  leave  the 
room;  as  she  reaches  the  door  the  First  Soldier,  the  one 
who  is  lounging  in  the  chair,  springs  after  her. 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

Putting  his  arm  around  her. 

By  gad,  those  lips  are  sweeter  than  cheese! 

The  girl  clinches  her  frail  hands  and  beats  them  upon  the 
burly  breast  of  the  man;  her  eyes  blaze. 

THE  GIRL 

I  will  kill  you,  if  you  kiss  me! 
The  Soldier  laughs;  the  other  Soldiers  laugh,  also. 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

Kill  me?    Ha,  Ha!    My  pretty  butterfly  — Nip 
away!    Do  you  think  you  can  stop  me? 

Philip  jumps  suddenly  from  the  piano-stool  and  surprises 
the  man  by  seizing  his  arms  from  behind,  thus  making 
him  release  his  hold  of  the  girl. 

PHILIP 
Curtly. 

I  can,  if  she  can't. 


ACT  n]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  67 

The  Girl,  released,  runs  away. 

The  Soldier,  red  and  angry,  faces  Philip.  He  lunges  at 
Philip;  they  close  and  wrestle.  The  man  is  an  excellent 
shot  but  no  athlete;  Philip  is  both;  they  wrestle  for  a 
few  minutes,  the  others  look  up  from  their  cards  with 
interest.  Finally,  Philip,  by  a  quick  turn,  throws  the 
man  on  his  knees.  The  Soldiers  cheer. 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

Yielding. 

All  right  —  we're  quits. 

PHILIP 

Calmly,  going  back  to  the  piano. 

We  will  be,  if  you  leave  that  young  lady  alone  — ' 
otherwise  — 
He  strikes  a  chord  and  begins  to  sing. 

The  pipers  pipe,  the  drummers  beat, 
We  hear  the  sound  of  tramping  feet; 
Our  merry  men  are  marching  fast; 
For  the  trumpet  blows  the  welcome  blast, 
0  the  trumpet  blows  the  welcome  blast ! 

Our  gallant  troop  is  glad  and  gay! 
As  we  laughing  ride  away,  away, 
We  care  not  what  we  leave  behind; 
For  the  scent  of  war  is  on  the  wind, 
O  the  scent  of  war  is  on  the  wind ! 


68  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  n 

The  Soldier  has  come  to  the  piano,  during  the  song,  and, 
leaning  on  it,  has  listened;  slowly  his  anger  has  changed 
to  good  humour. 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

That's  jolly!  I  won't  bear  you  any  grudge,  but 
• —  say  —  I  think  it  was  damned  priggish  to  spoil 
a  kiss! 

PHILIP 
Still  playing. 

It's  not  priggish  to  protect  a  young  lady  from 
being  insulted  —  and  if  it  is  —  I'll  continue  to  be 
a  prig. 

ONE  or  THE  SOLDIERS  AT  THE  CARD  TABLE 

A  man  who  fights  as  Gordon  did,  yesterday,  can't 
be  called  a  prig,  no  matter  how  moral  he  is. 

SECOND  SOLDIER 

He  has  earned  the  right  to  kiss  any  girl  he  wants, 
or  prevent  another  fellow  from  kissing  her  if  he 
wants  to.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  him,  yesterday  — 

PHILIP 

Impatiently. 

O  give  us  a  rest!  , 

He  strikes  loud  chords  on  the  piano  to  drown  their  words. 


ACT  n]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  69 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

Leaning  on  the  piano  and  talking  so  loudly  that  his  voice 
rises  above  the  din  of  Philip' 's  music. 

Say  —  I  was  only  taking  the  rights  of  war. 

PHILIP 

Scornfully,  emphasising  his  words  with  loud  musical  chords. 

The  rights  of  war!  The  rights  of  war!  We  fight, 
we  win  a  battle,  we  invade  this  country,  we  come 
to  this  house,  we  take  possession  of  it;  a  mother  is 
dying  up  stairs,  the  servants  have  run  away,  a 
young  inexperienced  girl  is  alone.  We  desecrate 
the  house,  smash  her  jimcracks  —  (waving  his 
hand  towards  the  room).  We  smoke  out  her  violet 
perfume  with  rank  tobacco,  make  her  wait  on  us 
and  then  kiss  her  by  force!  By  Jove!  It  cuts! 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

She's  damned  lucky.  If  she  had  lived  years  ago  — 
in  fact,  if  she  lived  now  in  Turkey  or  any  other 
barbarous  country  —  she  would  be  lying  in  a  pool 
of  blood.  But  in  civilised  warfare  — 

PHILIP 
Impatiently. 

In  civilised  warfare  we  can  be  as  uncivilised  as  we 
please  provided  it  is  "civilised  warfare." 


70  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  n 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

O  dry  up!    You  sing  better  than  you  talk  —  go 
on  —  sing  us  another  song. 

PHILIP 
Not  until  I  have  had  some  beer. 

Philip  goes  to  the  table  and  helps  himself  to  beer. 


ACT  II 

SCENE  II 


ACT  II 

SCENE  II 
EIGHT  MONTHS  LATER 

In  the  Enemy's  Country.     Twilight 

The  wooded  border  of  a  battle-field  after  a  battle.  In  the  far 
distance  are  seen  men  and  horses  lying  on  the  ground, 
and  from  the  distance  are  heard  confused,  awful  sounds. 
In  the  foreground  is  the  entrance  to  a  quiet  bit  of  wood 
land. 

Philip,  in  the  uniform  of  a  lieutenant,  is  standing  on  the 
edge  of  the  woods.  Sick  at  the  horrors,  he  draws  a  long 
breath  of  relief  as  he  leaves  the  terrible  scene  of  carnage 
behind  and  approaches  this  peaceful  place.  Having 
done  his  duty  of  search,  he  is  again  at  high  tension  from 
the  intoxicating  delight  of  victory  and  the  virile  after 
math  of  the  lust  of  battle;  he  is  in  haste  to  reach  the  camp 
to  mess  with  his  rollicking  comrades  and  discourse 
upon  the  glories  of  war  and  the  delight  in  this  signal 
victory;  he  is  congratulating  himself  he  has  gotten  be 
yond  those  fragments  of  human  beings,  those  mangled 
masses  of  his  fellow-men.  It  has  been  a  long-fought 
battle  and  it  is  a  gory  field.  Philip  has  had  some 
nerve-racking  services  to  perform  in  the  last  four  hours. 
The  battle  ended  at  three  o'clock;  it  is  now  seven.  He  is 
very  hungry  and  tired,  although  he  is  too  excited  to 
realise  this. 

73 


74  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  n 

PHILIP 

Drawing  a  long  breath. 

Thank  God,  I  am  out  of  that! 

From  the  shadow  of  one  of  the  trees  comes  a  prolonged  groan. 
Philip  goes  to  the  place  from  whence  it  comes  and  sees 
one  of  the  Enemy,  lying  on  the  ground.  The  man  had 
crawled  out  of  the  wrtex  of  horror  some  hours  before, 
had  reached  this  quiet  place,  had  become  unconscious 
and  is  now  coming  back  to  conscious  suffering;  his 
eyes  are  bright  with  fever. 

PHILIP 

Stooping  over  him  with  eager  solicitude. 
What  may  I  do  for  you,  my  Friend? 

THE  ENEMY 
Hoarsely. 

You  have  ripped  open  my  side  —  you  have  blown 
off  my  arm  —  you  have  torn  my  face  —  I  don't 
think  I  care  to  have  you  do  anything  more,  thank 
you. 

Philip  pours  water  from  his  canteen  and  holds  it  to  the 
Enemy's  lips. 

PHILIP 
Here  —  take  this  water. 


ACT  n]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  75 

THE  ENEMY 

Turning  away. 

Water  —  from  you?    Not  if  I  were  in  Hell ! 

PHILIP 
Please  take  it  from  me  —  We  are  both  soldiers. 

THE  ENEMY 

I'm  not  a  soldier  now  —  I  am  just  a  man  — blown 
to  atoms  —  and  cut  to  shreds  —  going  out  into 
the  dark. 

PHILIP 
You  are  feverish.    Please  take  this  water. 

THE  ENEMY 

I  am  not  feverish.  I  am  perfectly  sane  —  sane  — 
for  the  first  time  in  all  my  life.  I  see  clearly  for 
the  first  time  —  I  tell  you  death  takes  the  blood- 
mist  from  our  eyes. 

PHILIP 
Then,  if  you  are  sane,  remember  your  code. 

THE  ENEMY 

Code  be  damned !  Men  trick  themselves  with  lies. 
I  see  it  all  now  —  all  the  artificial  stuff  I  have 


76  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  n 

talked  all  my  life.  I  am  a  lying  hypocrite.  Mili 
tary  glory —  heroism  —  bravery!  Bah!  Why,  I 
wouldn't  blow  a  dog  to  atoms,  for  any  reason,  as 
I  have  blown  my  fellow-men  for  years  —  and 
never  thought  about  it  —  as  you  have  blown  me. 

PHILIP 

Sternly. 

Don't  say  that  again! 

THE  ENEMY 

With  a  harsh  laugh. 

Ha!  How  particular  we  are  about  names!  Call 
a  man  a  brave  soldier  and'  his  gold-embroidered 
breast  swells,  he  is  puffed  up  with  pride.  Call  a 
man  a  murderer  and  he  is  ready  to  knock  you 
down. 

He  coughs,  loses  his  breath  for  a  moment,  then  continues, 
smiling  grimly. 

You  can't  knock  me  down  any  farther  —  I  am  in 
the  dust  now  —  the  dust  of  which  I  shall  soon  be 
a  part. 

Philip  takes  a  flask  from  his  pocket  and  holds  it  to  the 
Enemy's  lips. 

PHILIP 

You  must  take  this  brandy. 
The  Enemy  refuses  the  brandy. 


ACT  n]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  77 

THE  ENEMY 

Laughing  hoarsely. 

Of  course!  If  I  continued  to  talk  the  language  of 
lies  I  should  be  a  regulation  specimen  of  military 
tradition.  But  as  I  speak  the  bald  truth,  you 
think  I  am  a  wandering  lunatic.  You  are  a  mur 
derer,  and  don't  you  forget  it  —  But  —  so  — 
am  —  I. 

With  rasping  emphasis. 

We  trick  our  minds,  and  do  not  think,  and  if,  by 
chance,  we  do  accomplish  the  difficult  task  of 
thinking,  we  don't  think  straight.  My  God!  I 
have  been  thinking  straight  since  I  lay  in  this  pool 
of  blood.  You  talk  about  the  code!  What  is  the 
first  fetich  of  the  code?  It  is  the  unity  of  the  army. 
If  the  army  is  a  unit,  working  together,  then  each 
man  has  his  share  in  each  act  of  the  whole; —  every 
man  that  falls  on  the  other  side  falls  by  the  pur- 
pose  —  the  intent  of  each  soldier  in  the  army,  and 
intent  is  the  basis  of  crime.  I  have  killed  in  my 
time  —  let  me  see  —  I  have  been  adding  up  since 
I  lay  here,  before  I  fainted  —  let  me  see  —  what 
was  it?  I  have  been  in  the  army  ten  years  —  I 
have  killed  about  ninety-five  thousand  men  at 
the  least  —  probably  more  —  Yes  —  I  have  killed 
ninety-five  thousand  men!  —  I  am  going  to  my 


78  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  n 

Mother's  God  with  the  murder  of  ninety-five  thou 
sand  men  on  my  soul  —  What  shall  I  say  to  Him? 

A  look  of  awe  comes  into  the  Enemy's  eyes. 
What  shaU  I  say  to  Him? 

PHILIP 

I  have  never  heard  anything  so  utterly  mad.  You 
must  take  this  brandy. 

Again,  Philip  puts  the  brandy  to  his  mouth;  again,  the  Enemy 
pushes  it  away. 

THE  ENEMY 

The  moment  the  scales  fall  from  a  man's  eyes  and 
he  begins  to  use  his  brains,  men  give  him  brandy 
and  say  he  is  mad. 

PHILIP 
If  you  are  sane,  you  will  die  like  a  soldier. 

THE  ENEMY 

O  I'll  die  like  a  soldier  all  right  —  that  doesn't 
trouble  me  —  what  troubles  me  is  that  I've  been 
killing  like  a  soldier  for  ten  years  —  I  tell  you,  dy 
ing  opens  the  door  and  one  sees  a  new  view.  I 
thought  I  was  a  fine  hero  and  I  find  I'm  just  a 
common  murderer  —  a  wholesale  murderer! 


ACT  n]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  79 

PHILIP 

Persuasively. 
Please  hush! 

THE  ENEMY 

Talking  rapidly. 

Wait  until  you  come  to  die,  and  see  how  differently 
you  will  see  everything  —  that  is  —  if  you  let 
yourself  look  —  most  men  don't  —  they  die  with 
their  eyes  shut  —  as  they  have  lived!  (After  a 
pause).  There  is  another  thing  —  I  thought  I  was 
an  atheist  —  I  could  find  no  scientific  proof  of 
God  —  but  —  I  believe  I  believe  in  my  Mother's 
God;  I  can't  get  away  from  Him.  He  has  tracked 
me,  —  He  has  run  me  down.  And  now  I  am  going 
to  stand  face  to  face  with  Him,  straight  from  this 
Hell  —  which  I  made  —  with  the  murder  of 
ninety-five  thousand  men  on  my  soul  —  ninety- 
five  thousand! 

PHILIP 

For  God's  sake,  don't  say  that  again  —  it  is 
hideous. 

THE  ENEMY 

Of  course  it  is  hideous,  because  it  is  true.  If  our 
boasted  Unity  means  anything  —  then  each  man 


So  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  n 

the  army  killed  as  a  whole,  /  killed  in  intent,  as  a 
part  of  that  whole. 

PHILIP 

Irrelevantly. 

But  the  glory  of  dying  for  one's  country! 

THE  ENEMY 
With  harsh  emphasis. 

I  told  you  before  and  I  tell  you  again  —  that's  not 
the  question.  I  am  glad  to  die  for  my  Country! 
That's  all  right!  But  I  know  —  now  that  I  come 
to  die  —  that  it  is  not  so  glorious  to  sin  for  Her. 

PHILIP 

Impatiently. 

Sin  for  Her? 

THE  ENEMY 

Yes,  sin  for  Her!  Killing  is  against  the  Law  —  the 
law  of  God  —  the  law  of  Society  —  the  inner  law 
of  Conscience.  Calling  it  fine  names  doesn't 
change  it.  It  has  been  murder  in  the  first  degree, 
for  it  was  intent.  Every  shot  the  army  fired  was 
intended  —  aimed  —  planned  to  kill,  and  I  was  a 
part  of  each  purpose  —  each  intent. 

After  a  pause. 


ACT  n]  IN  THE   VANGUARD  81 

I  never  bothered  with  religion,  but  I  worked  hard 
in  settlement  work  and  talked  all  the  jargon  of  the 
day.  I  spent  two  whole  nights,  once,  trying  to 
save  a  poor  wretch  for  his  family;  and  yet,  I  have 
blown  to  bits  ninety-five  thousand  of  my  fellow- 
men  —  and  never  thought  about  it !  Isn't  it 
funny? 

PHILIP 
Distressed. 

I  must  not  argue  with  you  —  you  are  too  ill;  but 
perhaps  it  will  comfort  you  if  I  remind  you  that, 
when  men  fight  for  principle,  for  a  moral  question, 
the  intent  is  justified. 

THE  ENEMY 

Excitedly. 

O  it  doesn't  hurt  me  to  talk.  You  are  right  —  1  am 
feverish  —  It  hasn't  made  me  delirious  —  it  has 
cleared  my  brain,  but  it  strings  up  my  tongue  —  to 
talk.  You  may  argue  all  you  will  but,  for  God's 
sake,  don't  talk  twaddle  to  a  dying  man! 

PHILIP 
It  is  the  truth. 

THE  ENEMY 

Excitedly. 

It  is  not  the  truth.    Once,  when  I  was  sheriff,  I 


82  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  n 

protected  an  assassin  from  being  torn  to  pieces  by 
the  mob,  which  he  really  deserved.  He  had  killed 
one  man  only,  and,  by  the  measure  of  his  own 
conscience,  he  had  —  what  was  to  him  —  a  high- 
flown  moral  motive.  I  talked  with  him  and  really 
felt  him  to  be  sincere  —  and  yet  I  loathed  him;  and 
I  have  shot  ninety-five  thousand  men  and  patted 
myself  on  the  back  for  a  soldier.  Bosh!  A  sane 
mind  that  thinks  straight  can't  make  those  two 
codes  match. 


PHILIP 
Pardon  me,  my  dear  Sir,  but  you  are  quite  crazy! 


THE  ENEMY 

Smiling  grimly. 

You  mean  dying  has  made  me  quite  sane  —  at  last. 
Listen  to  me  —  Here  we  are  —  two  Nations  with 
different  traditions,  different  religions,  different 
standards  of  morals  —  why,  it  is  only  the  educated 
amongst  us  who  can  even  speak  each  other's 
language  —  how  can  we  understand  each  other's 
point  of  view?  I  felt,  when  I  came  to  this  war,  that 
if  ever  a  Nation  had  been  base  and  false,  You 
had  —  a  breaker  of  faith  —  a  meddler  —  a  — 


ACT  11]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  83 

PHILIP 

Sternly. 

That  will  do! 

THE  ENEMY 

I  honestly  did;  and  —  you  seem  an  honest  man  — 
perhaps  you  had  something  of  the  same  feeling 
about  us  — 

PHILIP 
Sharply. 

Rather! 

THE  ENEMY 

There  you  go!  Now  don't  you  see  we  can't  both 
be  right  —  we  can't  both  be  working  for  a  true 
principle  —  it's  tommy-rot.  You  kill  me  for 
righteousness  and  I  kill  you  for  righteousness  — 
Don't  you  see  it's  silly?  Don't  you  see  that  the 
only  thing  that  might  justify  murder  becomes 
its  condemnation?  If  you  and  I  each  honestly 
thought  we  were  morally  right,  then  it  was  a 
matter  for  arbitration,  not  for  murder. 

PHILIP 
In  distress. 

My  Friend!  If  I  did  not  do  it  before,  I  am  cer 
tainly  committing  murder  now  by  permitting  you 
to  talk. 


84  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  n 

THE  ENEMY 

With  the  first  touch  of  pathos  in  his  voice. 

0  let  me  talk!    Let  me  talk!    I  shall  be  quiet 
enough  soon!     It  eases  me  to  talk.     Ever  had 
fever?    Something  flames  within  you  and  it  loosens 
the  tension  to  talk.    I  could  talk  —  and  talk  —  and 
talk  —  and  — 

He  loses  consciousness.  Philip  bends  over  him  and  bathes  his 
face  with  water;  after  a  moment,  the  Enemy  opens  his 
eyes. 

PHILIP 

With  solicitude. 

1  must  go  for  help  —  our  men  are  near. 

THE  ENEMY 

Laughing  hoarsely. 

That's  funny  too.  Blow  a  man  to  pieces  in  the 
name  of  patriotism,  and  then  try  to  patch  the 
pieces  together  in  the  name  of  humanity.  It's 
really  comic  when  you  come  to  think  about  it  — 
I  won't  be  party  to  such  a  farce  any  longer. 
There's  no  help  for  me  now,  and  besides  —  I 
wouldn't  take  it  from  an  enemy! 

There  is  an  awful  silence,  broken  only  by  the  ominous  sound 
in  the  man's  throat  and  by  piteous  sounds  that  come 
from  the  battle-field. 


ACT  11]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  85 

THE  ENEMY 
His  voice  broken  and  failing. 

Mary  —  Mary  —  the  roses  —  in  the  garden  — 
Put  your  head  upon  my  breast  —  No  —  it  is  wet 
with  blood  —  it  will  hurt  your  beautiful  hair. 

Philip,  very  pale  and  with  something  new  in  his  eyes,  leans 
over  the  Enemy. 

THE  ENEMY 

Brokenly. 

Universal  Brotherhood  —  those  are  your  words, 
Mary!  Say,  old  Chap  —  give  us  your  hand  — 

He  tries  to  move  his  only  hand  toward  Philip.    Philip  takes  it 
tenderly. 

THE  ENEMY 

Uni  —  vers  —  al  Brotherhood  — 

He  dies. 
The  twilight  fades  and  all  is  dark.    After  a  time,  out  of  the 

darkness,  the  voice  of  Philip  is  heard  speaking  slowly  in 

level  tones. 

PHILIP 
He  is  my  Brother  —  and  I  have  killed  him! 


ACT  II 

SCENE  III 


ACT  II 

SCENE  III 

THE  NEXT  DAY 

In  the  Enemy 's  Country.    Sunrise 

A  wooded  place  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  battle-field. 
Philip,  with  a  face  as  grey  as  ashes,  and  with  head 
bent  in  profound  thought,  is  walking  through  the  woods. 

The  General  enters  from  the  right. 

Philip  straightens  himself  and  salutes. 

THE  GENERAL 

Cordially. 

Ah!  Lieutenant.  You  are  the  very  man  I  wished 
to  see.  I  was  intending  to  send  for  you  this  morn 
ing.  I  took  note  of  you  again,  yesterday.  (Scan 
ning  his  face).  Beelzebub!  What's  the  matter? 
Not  used  to  fields  after  battle,  eh?  You'll  get  used 
to  it,  young  man,  as  you  get  older.  A  fighter  like 
you  gets  over  being  squeamish.  Don't  like  battle 
fields  myself  —  they  turn  my  stomach  the  next 
day,  but  I  had  to  come  out  to  look  for  some  of  my 
boys;  they  go  too  fast,  poor  fellows!  But  God 
be  praised !  There  are  others  to  take  their  places. 

89 


go  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  n 

You  will  step  into  Captain  Mett's  shoes.     You 
fought  like  a  tiger,  yesterday.    I  watched  you. 

PHILIP 
In  a  tone  of  distress. 

Please  don't,  Sir. 

THE  GENERAL 

Why  Don't?    Modest,  eh?  I  like  that.    I  will  see 
to  it  that  you  have  the  Commission  at  once. 

PHILIP 
Very  pale. 

I  cannot  take  it,  Sir. 

THE  GENERAL 
Beelzebub,  the  Prince  of  Devils!    Are  you  crazy? 

PHILIP 
I  do  not  know  —  perhaps  —  but  — 

THE  GENERAL 
Have  you  seen  a  ghost? 

PHILIP 

Solemnly. 

Yes,  Sir. 

The  General  laughs. 

I  have  seen  the  Holy  Ghost. 


ACT  n]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  91 

THE  GENERAL 

Ton  my  soul  —  you  are  a  blasphemous  young 
devil! 

PHILIP 
With  hesitation. 

I  have  had  a  vision  of  —  of  —  what  I  suppose  men 
call  the  Holy  Spirit  —  I  have  been  face  to  face 
with  it  all  night  —  It  is  something  one  cannot  put 
into  words. 

THE  GENERAL 

Curtly. 

I  beg  you  will  not  try  to  put  it  into  words  —  the 
less  said  about  it,  the  better!  If  you  have  been  up 
all  night  you  need  your  breakfast  —  that's  what's 
the  matter  with  you.  Go  —  Get  it !  Then  come 
to  me  and  talk  sense. 

I  salute  you,  Captain. 

The  General  salutes  playfully  and  goes  of  to  the  left.  Philip 
salutes  the  General,  looking  after  him  affectionately, 
as  he  walks  away  with  firm  military  bearing. 

PHILIP 

Desperately. 

How  can  I  make  him  see?  I  should  rather  storm 
a  breach  or  scale  a  wall  than  face  that  talk  with 
him.  He  has  been  kind,  so  very  good  to  me. 


92  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  n 

But,  the  truth  seems  clear  to  me  now,  the  argu 
ments  unanswerable  —  all  night  they  have  been 
marshalling  themselves  —  yet  I  can  foresee  the 
utter  futility  of  trying  to  make  him  see.  I  can 
foresee  the  iron-clad  impregnability  of  his  mind. 
Leave  the  army?  —  Refuse  a  Commission?  —  Re 
fuse  ever  to  pull  the  trigger  again  or  use  the  sword? 
—  Request  only  to  carry  the  colours  until  my 
time  is  served?  —  He  will  not  strike  me  in  anger  — 
he  is  too  just  for  that,  and  too  discerning;  —  but 
God  knows  that  bullets  would  be  soft  compared 
with  the  epithets  I  can  hear  him  hurling  at  me  — 
"lunatic,"  "idiot,"  "fool,"  and  — worst  of  all  — 
"sentimentalist."  And  yet,  God  help  me,  I  can  do 
no  other  way.  I  must  stop  killing  my  fellow-men. 
Last  night,  it  was  as  though  a  door  opened  in  my 
mind,  and  through  the  long  night  I  thought  and 
thought  —  and  fought  and  fought.  Tradition, 
false  standards  fell  away.  I  saw  the  ethical  con 
tradiction  of  war. 

True  civilisation  must  mean  Construction  —  not 
Destruction;  it  must  be  unto  Life  —  not  unto 
Death.  There  must  be  a  better  way  to  settle  our 
difficulties,  and  every  man  who  accepts  war  helps 
to  retard  the  finding  of  that  better  way.  I  never 
thought  of  that  before  —  but  now  that  I  have 
thought  of  it,  I  dare  not  go  on. 


ACT  n]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  93 

After  a  pause. 

Captain!  —  Captain!  And  I  must  give  it  up! 
What  is  any  fight  compared  to  a  fight  like  this  —  a 
fight  with  my  own  soul?  —  I  hoped  —  I  worked  — 
I  won  —  and  now  —  Elsa !  Elsa !  I  have  lost  you ! 

He  throws  himself  upon  the  ground  beside  a  tree  and  covers 
his  face  with  his  hands. 


ACT  III 

SCENE  I 


ACT  III 

SCENE  I 
ONE  MONTH  LATER 

In  the  Enemy's  Country 

A  wooded  place.     Three  soldiers  are  sitting  on  the  ground 
drinking  heavily  and  singing. 

THE  SOLDIERS 
Singing. 

0  here's  to  the  Girl, 

With  the  bonny,  bonny  curl, 
And  the  laughing  eyes  of  blue! 

1  told  her  we  must  part; 
And  it  broke  her  tender  heart, 
Though  I  vowed  I  would  be  true. 

I  can  see  her  even  yet, 
With  her  pretty  cheeks  as  wet 
As  the  roses  bathed  in  dew. 
O  the  bonny,  bonny  Girl, 
With  the  bonny,  bonny  curl, 
And  tears  in  her  eyes  of  blue! 

97 


98  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

That  white-livered  Gordon  goes,  to-morrow,  thank 
God!  He  contaminates  the  camp. 

SECOND  SOLDIER 

The  renegade!  The  cursed  traitor!  Let's  beat 
him  out  of  camp,  with  a  leather  strap !  He  hasn't 
fired  a  shot  since  that  night.  He  ought  to  have 
been  court-martialed.  What's  the  matter  with 
the  General,  anyhow? 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

There  is  something  behind  all  this  —  men  don't 
throw  up  promotion  for  nothing  and  Generals 
don't  let  them.  They  say  that  he  hoodooed  the 
General.  He  offered  a  Commission  to  Gordon  and 
he  refused  point  blank  to  take  it,  snivelled  to  go 
home  —  and  the  General  did  not  have  him  shot! 

THIRD  SOLDIER 

But  they  say  the  General  was  furious;  they  had  a 
terrible  row  and  talked  for  hours. 

FIRST  SOLDIER 
Scornfully. 

Row?  The  only  kind  of  a  row  he  should  have  with 
a  man  like  that  was  to  shoot  him  like  a  weasel. 


ACT  in]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  99 

SECOND  SOLDIER 
He's  let  the  damned  traitor  carry  the  flag. 

THIRD  SOLDIER 
He  had  to  serve  until  his  time  was  up ! 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

It's  up  to-day,  thank  God!  I  am  sick  of  seeing  the 
coward. 

THIRD  SOLDIER 

O  give  the  devil  his  due!  He  carried  the  colours 
into  the  thickest  of  the  fight  every  time.  He 
seemed  to  be  running  after  death. 

SECOND  SOLDIER 
He's  ashamed  to  live  —  that's  why. 

THIRD  SOLDIER 
That  shows  he  isn't  a  coward,  any  way. 

FIRST  SOLDIER 
I'd  coward  him  if  I  got  hold  of  him. 

THIRD  SOLDIER 

Now,  see  here,  I'm  not  stuck  on  him.  And  all 
this  Sunday  School  peace  business  makes  me 


ioo  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  in 

gag  —  this  rot  about  arbitration  —  arbitration  be 
damned!  You  might  as  well  talk  about  two 
hungry  bull-dogs  arbitrating  over  a  bone  as  to 
talk  of  angry  nations  arbitrating  a  quarrel!  But 
I  can't  honestly  call  Gordon  a  coward.  I  think 
he's  a  fool,  a  blasted  fool,  but  not  a  coward.  It 
took  more  courage  to  do  what  he  did  than  to  fight 
a  thousand  battles,  and  he  has  been  to  the  front 
ever  since;  why  the  devil  he  don't  get  shot  the 
Lord  only  knows. 

FIRST  SOLDIER 
He's  dead  already  —  that's  why. 

THIRD  SOLDIER 

Hold  up  now!  He's  a  pretty  live  man,  and  don't 
you  forget  it!  I'd  advise  you  not  to  try  any  of 
your  funny  business  with  him. 

The  Soldiers  glare  at  him. 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

Holy  Peter!  What  luck!  There  he  comes!  I'll 
give  him  a  piece  of  my  mind! 

SECOND  SOLDIER 
I'll  give  hun  a  taste  of  my  fist! 
The  two  Soldiers  try  to  rise. 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  fdi 

THIRD  SOLDIER 

Laying  a  detaining  hand  on  his  two  companions. 

Sit  still  you,  both  of  you  —  you're  too  full  to  ex 
change  compliments  with  anyone,  just  now. 

FIRST  SOLDIER 
Let  me  alone,  I  say! 

SECOND  SOLDIER 
Leave  go ! 

Enter  Philip  in  the  uniform  of  a  private.  The  First  and 
Second  Soldier  break  away  from  the  detaining  hand 
of  the  Third  Soldier  —  they  rise  and  go  toward  Philip 
unsteadily. 

FIRST  SOLDIER 
In  a  thick  voice. 

So  you  are  running  away,  Mr.  Traitor! 

SECOND  SOLDIER 

You  are  a  disgrace  to  mankind,  that's  what  you 
are. 

Both  Soldiers  come  nearer  to  Philip  with  clinched  fists.  Philip 
draws  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  his  eyes  have  that 
power  of  command,  which  holds  the  wild  beast  in  leash 
with  more  surety  than  a  blow;  something  powerful  and 
compelling  emanates  from  him;  he  speaks  in  the  voice 
of  one  having  authority. 


io2  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  ni 

PHILIP 
Stand  back! 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

Insolently. 

I  want  to  give  you  a  piece  of  my  mind. 

PHILIP 
I  am  quite  ready  to  hear  it  —  go  on! 

Philip  folds  his  arms  and  stands  motionless.    The  Soldiers 
again  start  to  go  toward  him. 

Stand  back!    Not  one  step  nearer! 

The  Soldiers  instinctively  fall  back;  they  mutter  something 
inaudible.    The  Third  Soldier  laughs. 

I  am  waiting. 

The  Soldiers  stand  awkwardly. 

Philip  lifts  his  hat. 

If  you  have  nothing  to  say,  I  will  bid  you  good 
morning. 

Philip  walks  away;  the  two  soldiers  stare  at  him,  open- 
mouthed. 

THIRD  SOLDIER 

Sarcastically. 

Why  didn't  you  give  him  a  taste  of  your  tongue? 
Why  didn't  you  give  him  a  taste  of  your  fists? 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  103 

FIRST  SOLDIER 

Holy  Peter!    There  was  a  blue  blaze  in  his  eyes 
that  took  it  out  of  me. 

SECOND  SOLDIER 
The  liquor  muddled  me  as  I  went  to  strike. 

THIRD  SOLDIER 

Reflectively. 

I  wonder  if  it  was  the  liquor? 


ACT  III 

SCENE  II 


ACT  III 

SCENE  II 

FOUR  WEEKS  LATER 

The  Village  Green  as  in  Act  First 

Elsa  and  the  same  girls  who  were  in  the  first  scene  are  dancing 
on  the  Green  to  the  music  of  their  tamlourines. 

FIRST  GIRL 

Stopping  suddenly  and  looking  over  the  Common. 

Who  is  that?    As  sure  as  the  sun  shines,  it's  Philip 
Gordon! 

Elsa  starts  and  stands  poised  for  the  dance.  The  colour  sweeps 
over  her  face,  down  to  the  white  line  of  her  dress  at  the 
throat  and  into  the  soft  curls  of  the  hair  on  her  forehead. 
She  looks  over  the  Common. 

ELSA 
In  a  tense  tone. 

Philip?  —  It  is  Philip. 

She  runs  swiftly  away  and  does  not  look  back  as  she  runs. 

SECOND  GIRL 

See  Elsa  run!    Just  see  her  run!    Where  is  her 

107 


io8  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

boasted  Philip  now?  She  has  been  blowing  his 
trumpet  all  the  year!  And  now  she  won't  even 
speak  to  him. 

FIRST  GIRL 

I  —  for  my  part  —  don't  intend  to  speak  to  him 
either. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 

O  we  must  speak  to  him!  We  are  Christians,  but 
we  can  freeze  him  out  all  the  same. 

Philip  appears  in  the  distance.  He  no  longer  wears  the  uni 
form  of  a  soldier.  He  carries  a  travelling  bag.  Be 
hind  him  are  several  small  street  boys,  shabbily  dressed, 
with  bare  feet;  they  follow  Philip,  mimicking  his  every 
movement  and  making  grotesque  faces  and  gestures  in 
derision.  Philip,  very  pale,  is  quite  conscious  of  the 
boys,  but  he  does  not  turn  his  head  or  show  them  by 
any  sign  that  he  is  aware  of  their  presence.  As  Philip 
and  his  train  of  mockers  come  in  sight  of  the  dancers, 
the  boys  run  away  and  Philip  alone  approaches  them. 
He  raises  his  hat  in  greeting.  The  First  Girl  turns  her 
back.  The  others  bow  coldly. 


MINNIE 

Kindly. 

Welcome  home,  Philip! 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  109 

PHILIP 
Thank  you,  Minnie. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 

Holding  out  her  hand  stiffly. 

How  do  you  do!    What  a  little  army  you  had 
following  you !  Why  did  your  little  men  run  away? 

PHILIP 

Taking  her  hand  and  flushing  hotly. 

My  little  men  were  not  sufficiently  well-dressed 
to  enter  this  distinguished  presence. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 

Elsa  ran,  too.    She  ran  when  she  saw  you  coming. 
Did  you  see  her? 

PHILIP 

With  quiet  dignity. 

Yes  —  I  saw  her. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 

I  wonder  why!    Do  you  remember  that  day  she 
read  us  about  her  hero? 

PHILIP 
Yes,  I  remember. 


no  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 

Well,  she  has  been  worse  than  ever  about  "valiant 
heroes,"  as  she  calls  them,  ever  since  the  war 
began.  She  was  crazy  about  you  when  you  were 
made  Lieutenant. 

PHILIP 

That  was  kind  of  her.  Good  morning  —  my 
Mother  is  expecting  me. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 

Hurriedly,  to  get  it  in  before  he  escapes. 

Minnie  was  reading  us  a  letter  from  Jack  —  we 
are  all  so  proud  of  him. 

PHILIP 

Warmly. 

You  well  may  be!  I  really  must  hurry  on  —  my 
Mother  is  waiting. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 
Your  poor  Mother! 
Exit  Philip. 

MINNIE 
Turning  to  the  Rector's  Daughter  savagely. 

I'm  the  Spitfire  of  the  village  —  you  are  supposed 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  in 

to  be  the  Saint  —  but,  upon  my  word,  I  wouldn't 
change  places  with  you ! 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 

Surprised. 

Wouldn't  you  really? 

MINNIE 
No  —  really. 

THE  RECTOR'S  DAUGHTER 
In  a  self-satisfied  tone. 
I  am  sure  I  shook  hands  with  him! 


ACT  III 

SCENE  III 


ACT  III 

SCENE  III 

A  FEW  MINUTES  LATER  THAN  THE  LAST  SCENE 

A  sparsely  furnished  room  in  Mr.  Gordon's  simple  house. 
Two  long  windows  lead  to  a  pleasant  porch,  which  in 
summer-time  becomes  part  of  the  room;  one  of  the 
windows  stands  open  for  ventilation.  On  one  side  of  the 
room,  there  is  a  door  leading  to  the  corridor,  and  on  the 
'  other  side  is  a  large  old-fashioned  fireplace.  Here  a 
bright  fire  of  balsam  boughs  crackles  cheerfully,  for 
though  it  is  the  end  of  May,  the  weather  is  uncertain. 

Mr.  Gordon  sits  by  the  fire  reading  a  newspaper.  Mr.  Gordon 
is  a  sallow,  dyspeptic-looking  man  with  a  mouth  that 
shuts  like  a  steel  trap;  he  is  nervous  and  irritable,  but 
to  his  own  mind  and  that  of  his  wife,  he  is  the  just 
judge  whose  word  is  law.  Mrs.  Gordon,  an  anxious 
care-worn  woman,  is  looking  out  of  the  closed  window. 

MRS.  GORDON 
Hesitatingly. 

When  Philip  comes,  Father,  I  hope  you  will  be 
kind  to  him  — 

MR.  GORDON 

Sharply. 

He  ought  to  be  beaten  with  many  stripes  for  he 

knew  better. 


n6  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  jn 

MRS.  GORDON 

0  Father! 

After  a  pause. 

Don't  you  think  it  is  most  time  for  Philip  to  come, 
Father? 

Mr.  Gordon  does  not  answer.    After  a  pause,  Mrs.  Gordon 
speaks  again. 

Don't  you  think  it  is  most  time  for  Philip  to  come, 
Father? 

Mr.  Gordon  does  not  answer. 
Father,  what  time  is  it? 

MR.  GORDON 

With  nervous  irritation. 

What  is  time? 

MRS.  GORDON 
Patiently. 

1  don't  know,  Father,  but  what  time  is  it? 

MR.  GORDON 

Who  always  treats  his  grey-haired  wife  as  though  she  were  a 
child,  looking  at  his  watch. 

It  is  eleven  o'clock;  time  for  you  to  allow  me  to 
finish  my  paper. 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  117 

Mrs.  Gordon  is  silenced;  she  continues  her  watch  at  the  win 
dow.  Mr.  Gordon  rattles  his  newspaper  in  an  em 
phatic,  almost  aggressive  way. 

MRS.  GORDON 

Suddenly  with  as  much  excitement  as  she  was  ever  known  to 
show. 

There  he  is  —  there  he  is  —  Father! 
MR.  GORDON 

Sharply. 

Who? 

MRS.  GORDON 

With  exaggerated  patience. 
Why  —  Philip  —  Father! 

Philip's  quick  step  is  heard  upon  the  porch  and  through  the 
open  window  he  comes,  with  eager  haste,  to  find  the 
shelter  of  home,  after  the  trying  ordeal  of  his  walk  across 
the  Common. 

PHILIP 

Agitatedly. 

Mother!  Father! 

MRS.  GORDON 

Kissing  him. 

How  do  you  do,  my  boy? 


nS  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

Mr.  Gordon  rises,  throws  down  his  paper  impatiently,  and 
puts  his  hands  behind  his  back. 

MR.  GORDON 

In  a  tone  of  arraignment. 

So  you  are  home,  Philip ! 

Philip  holds  out  his  hand  to  his  father  who  does  not  take  it. 

PHILIP 
Father!    Won't  you  shake  hands  with  me? 

MR.  GORDON 

Irritably. 

I  don't  shake  hands  with  deserters. 

PHILIP 

Impulsively. 

Father,  take  that  back! 

MRS.  GORDON 

In  a  strained  tone  of  distress. 

Don't  anger  your  Father,  Philip  —  he  has  had 
enough  to  bear. 

PHILIP 
Father,  you  will  let  me  explain  — 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  119 

MR.  GORDON 

You  explained  it  all  at  unnecessary  length  in  your 
letter;  as  I  wrote  you,  it  was  entirely  unconvincing. 
We  will  now  drop  the  subject.  You  will  have  to 
find  something  to  do.  I  can't  support  you. 

PHILIP 

Flushing  hotly. 
Father! 

MR.  GORDON 

You  won't  find  it  easy.  Of  course  you  know  that 
Stickley  and  Stowett  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
you,  —  nothing  whatever.  No,  you  will  not  find 
it  an  easy  task  to  secure  work.  There  isn't  a  decent 
House  in  the  town  that  will  take  you;  the  feeling 
runs  high,  very  high;  you  must  be  prepared  for 
that.  Even  the  boys  sing  ditties  about  you  in  the 
street  —  (His  voice  breaks)  —  about  my  son  — 
about  my  son  — 

PHILIP 

With  feeling. 

I  am  very  sorry. 

MR.  GORDON 

Sharply. 

No,  you  are  not,  or  you  wouldn't  have  done  it. 


120  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  in 

PHILIP 

I  mean  I  am  sorry  for  your  distress.  I  must  do 
what  I  think  is  right. 

MR.  GORDON 

In  a  tone  like  a  whip-lash. 

Right?  Right?  Do  you  think  any  decent-minded 
man  who  ever  lived  would  think  what  you  have 
done  is  right? 

PHILIP 
Yes,  Father. 

MR.  GORDON 
Who? 

PHILIP 
Jesus  Christ — Confucius — Buddha  —  Socrates  — 

MR.  GORDON 

Interrupting  angrily. 

Don't  quibble.    It  is  impertinence! 

PHILIP 

I  don't  mean  impertinence,  Sir.  Surely,  with  our 
boasted  civilisation,  some  of  us  at  least  should 
remember  the  wisdom  of  the  philosophers. 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  121 

MR.  GORDON 

His  anger  rising. 
Silence! 

MRS.  GORDON 

In  a  flutter. 

My  Son,  don't  annoy  your  Father. 

To  Mr.  Gordon. 

Father,  you'd  better  get  ready  —  it  is  most  time 
for  the  Rector  to  come.  You  know  you  promised 
to  walk  with  him  to  the  meeting.  (Greatly  relieved) .. 
There,  I  hear  his  step  upon  the  porch,  now. 

The  Rector,  who  is  entirely  at  home  in  Mr.  Gordon's  house 
hold,  enters  informally  through  the  open  window. 

MR.  GORDON 
How  do  you  do,  Rector? 

MRS.  GORDON 
Good  morning,  Rector. 

THE  RECTOR 

Good  morning,  Mrs.  Gordon.  Good  morning,  my 
dear  Warden. 

He  catches  sight  of  Philip,  —  his  face  changes  —  his  voice 
freezes. 

How  do  you  do? 


122  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

MR.  GORDON 
I'll  get  my  hat. 
Exit  Mr.  Gordon. 

THE  RECTOR 
To  Mrs.  Gordon. 

This  is  a  very  sad  occasion. 
PHILIP 

Irritated. 

Is  it  a  funeral? 

THE  RECTOR 
Pompously. 

Yes,  my  Son,  it  is  the  burial  of  your  Father's  and 
Mother's  hopes. 

PHILIP 

Perhaps  it  would  be  well  for  you  to  read  the  Service 
for  Malefactors  over  me,  Doctor. 

MRS.  GORDON 
Horrified. 

Why,  Philip! 

THE  RECTOR 

Don't  jest,  young  man.    You  have  brought  trouble 
enough  to  this  house;  the  affair  is  very  sad. 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  123 

MR.  GORDON 

Calling  from  without. 
Rector! 

THE  RECTOR 

Good-bye,  Mrs.  Gordon.  Philip,  you  may  come  to 
my  study  this  afternoon  —  I  will  read  you  a  ser 
mon  that  I  wrote  upon  the  subject  after  I  saw  your 
letter  to  your  Father.  Come  at  three-thirty. 

PHILIP 
Thank  you,  but  I  have  an  engagement. 

THE  RECTOR 

Then  come  when  you  can  —  I  will  be  your  friend. 
"I  am  not  sent  but  unto  the  lost  sheep  of  Israel." 
Good-bye,  Mrs.  Gordon. 
Exit  the  Rector. 

PHILIP 

Turning  eagerly  to  his  Mother. 
Mother,  has  a  letter  come  for  me? 

MRS.  GORDON 
No,  my  Son. 
Laying  a  hand  upon  his  arm. 

Philip,  I  am  glad  your  Grandfather  did  not  live 
to  see  this  day. 


i24  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

PHILIP 

Distressed. 

0  Mother!    You,  too! 

MRS.  GORDON 

1  do  not  know  what  you  mean,  Philip!    I  have 
tried  to  be  very  kind. 

PHILIP 
Kind,  yes  —  but  — 

MRS.  GORDON 
You  surely  can't  expect  me  to  be  proud  of  you. 

PHILIP 
Mother,  I  want  to  talk  to  you. 

MRS.  GORDON 

Now  don't  talk,  Philip,  you  will  only  get  us  both 
upset. 

PHILIP 
But  I  must  tell  you  my  thought. 


ACT  in]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  125 

MRS.  GORDON 

In  a  sweet  but  obstinate  voice. 

You  told  it  all  in  the  letter,  and  it  did  not  con 
vince  your  Father. 

PHILIP 
But  Father  is  not  you. 

MRS  GORDON 

Conclusively. 

What  your  Father  and  the  Rector  say  cannot  be 
wrong. 

PHILIP 

Impatiently. 

Mother,  how  mediaeval  you  are ! 
MRS.  GORDON 

With  air  of  great  forbearance. 

Philip,  please  be  respectful.    I  have  borne  a  great 
deal  for  you. 

PHILIP 

Repenting  of  his  impatience,  taking  her  hand  and  kissing  it 
reverently. 

I  did  not  mean  to  be  disrespectful,  Mother.    Of 
course  you  are  mediaeval  because  you  look  like  a 


126  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  in 

lovely  old  Florentine  picture.  But,  dear  Mother, 
won't  you  please  think  for  yourself? 

MRS.  GORDON 

Sweetly. 

I  do  think  for  myself,  my  Son.  I  think  what  your 
Father  thinks. 

PHILIP 

I  should  rather  you  would  turn  me  out  of  the 
house  than  — 

MRS.  GORDON 

Interrupting. 

You  know,  Philip,  I  would  not  turn  you  out  of  the 
house  for  anything;  not  even  if  you  had  committed 
murder. 

PHILIP 
I  have. 

MRS.  GORDON 

Startled. 

What,  Philip? 

PHILIP 
Committed  murder. 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  127 

MRS.  GORDON 

Turning  pale. 

What  do  you  mean? 

PHILIP 
I  have  killed  men  — 

MRS.  GORDON 

In  a  tone  of  horror. 

Philip! 

PHILIP 
In  battle. 

MRS.  GORDON 

Looking  much  relieved. 

What  a  turn  you  gave  me !  I  thought  you  meant 
you  had  actually  murdered;  I  do  not  know  what 
to  expect  from  you  these  days. 

PHILIP 

I  do  mean  just  that.  Killing  is  killing  —  is  it  not? 
Wherever  it  is  done. 

MRS.  GORDON 
Mercy,  no;  that's  very  different. 


128  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

PHILIP 
In  what  way  is  it  different? 

MRS.  GORDON 

0  it's  different  —  because  —  it's  different. 

PHILIP 

1  am  convinced  it  is  the  very  same;  that  is  why  I 
left  the  army;  intent  is  the  basis  of  crime.    Many 
a  man  is  called  a  murderer  who  did  not  really  in 
tend  to  kill,  but  every  man  I  killed,  I  killed  with 
deliberate  aim  and  intent. 

MRS.  GORDON 
How  you  talk! 

PHILIP 
It's  a  fact;  a  dying  man  showed  it  to  me. 

MRS.  GORDON 
Was  he  one  of  our  soldiers? 

PHILIP 
No,  he  was  an  enemy. 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  129 

MRS.  GORDON 

Sweetly. 

And  you  shot  him?  Well,  I  must  say  I'm  glad  you 
killed  one  of  the  villains,  anyway,  before  you  came 
home !  But  there  is  no  use  practising  arguments  on 
me,  now,  Philip,  as  you  used  to  when  you  were 
little,  about  "intent"  and  "basis  of  crime"  and 
all  that  lawyer  talk,  you  won't  need  it  any  longer. 
You  will  have  to  give  up  the  law,  no  one  will  take 
you;  even  Mrs.  Crimmins  told  Mary  Jane  that 
her  husband  won't  have  you  —  and  he  is  only  a 
cheap  lawyer. 

PHILIP 

Bitterly. 

I  might  break  stone. 

MRS.  GORDON 

You  never  could.  You  would  be  more  apt  to 
break  your  back. 

PHILIP 

Please  let  me  finish  what  I  started  to  say  to  you  a 
moment  ago,  Mother!  I  should  rather  you  turned 
me  out  of  the  house  feeling  I  was  right,  than  be 
kind  to  me  feeling  I  was  wrong. 


i3o  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

MRS.  GORDON 
How  can  wrong  be  right? 

PHILIP 
A  trifle  impatiently. 

Mother,  have  you  not  even  a  sense  of  humour? 

MRS.  GORDON 

Reproachfully. 

Philip,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  think  this  sad 
business  is  funny,  do  you? 

PHILIP 

Yes,  I  think  it  actually  begins  to  be  funny. 
He  throws  back  his  head  and  laughs  bitterly. 

MRS.  GORDON 

Patting  his  arm. 

There,  there,  now,  my  Boy,  you  are  not  yourself! 
Your  laugh  hasn't  the  old  merry  ring. 

PHILIP 

Bitterly. 

Hasn't  it  —  really?    How  strange! 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  131 

MRS.  GORDON 
In  a  coaxing  tone  as  though  he  were  an  infant. 

There !  There !  You  are  tired.  I'll  go  to  make  some 
tea  and  toast  for  you;  just  the  kind  of  toast  you 
like,  crisp  and  brown. 

PHILIP 

Listlessly. 

Thank  you,  Mother!    You  are  very  kind. 

Mrs.  Gordon  goes  to  the  door.    Philip  runs  after  her  and  lays 
a  detaining  hand  upon  her  arm. 

Mother,  are  you  sure  there  is  no  letter  for  me? 

MRS.  GORDON 

I  have  told  you  there  is  no  letter.  Who  would 
write  to  you  now? 

PHILIP 

I  was  expecting  an  answer  to  a  letter  I  wrote  some 
time  ago. 

MRS.  GORDON 

You  must  not  expect  answers  after  what  you  have 

done. 

With  the  sudden  intuition  of  the  Mother. 

You  expected  it  from  one  of  the  girls!  —  that 


i32  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

Elsa-girl,  perhaps  —  don't  you  know  they  are  all 
down  on  you,  now,  every  one  of  them? 

PHILIP 

Poignantly. 

I  presume  they  are. 

MRS.  GORDON 
You  ought  to  hear  them  talk,  Mary  Jane  says. 

Catching  the  look  in  his  eyes,  Mrs.  Gordon  is  sorry  for  him; 
she  pats  his  hand. 

There,  now,  my  Boy,  don't  worry;  of  course  you 
will  never  be  able  to  hold  up  your  head  in  this  town 
again.  We  are  disgraced,  as  your  Father  says,  but 
don't  worry,  my  Boy,  don't  worry! 

PHILIP 

Bitterly. 

O  no,  I  will  not  worry. 

Exit  Mrs.  Gordon.    Philip  laughs  a  mocking  laugh. 

If  I  were  a  woman  I  should  cry;  but  a  man's  laugh 
ter  is  salter  than  a  woman's  tears. 

His  laughter  ceases  —  he  is  silent  for  a  moment. 

My  God !  It  is  worse  even  than  I  thought  it  could 
be  —  much  worse  — 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  133 

He  leans  his  head  upon  his  hands. 

I  cannot  bear  it  —  I  cannot  bear  it. 

A  light  step  is  heard  in  the  corridor.    Philip  raises  his  head, 
the  pupils  of  his  eyes  and  his  nostrils  dilate. 

ELSA 
From  the  corridor. 

May  I  come  in?    Your  Mother  said  I  might. 
Els  a  enters  radiant  and  joyous. 

PHILIP 

Amazement  and  delight  mingling  in  his  voice. 

Elsa! 

ELSA 

I  could  not  meet  you  before  all  those  girls  —  I 
simply  could  not.  (Exultingly.)  I  ran  away,  and 
came  here  —  I  wanted  to  see  you  alone  to  tell 
you  I  have  found  my  Hero,  Philip,  at  last  —  I 
have  found  my  Hero ! 

PHILIP 

Making  a  mighty  effort  to  control  his  emotion. 
I  —  I  hope  you  will  be  happy. 

ELSA 

In  a  ringing  tone. 

Ah,  yes,  I  shall  be  happy  —  very  happy! 


134  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

PHILIP 

Stiffly. 

I  congratulate  you. 

ELSA 

Coming  closer. 

Philip,  don't  you  love  me  any  more? 

PHILIP 
Love  you!  —  O  my  God ! 

ELSA 

Fascinatingly. 

But  I  do  not  think  you  are  very  polite;  here  I 
come  —  without  waiting  for  an  invitation  —  the 
first  to  do  homage  to  my  Hero  —  and  he  is  as  cold 
as  Alpine  snow. 

PHILIP 

In  a  bewildered,  dazed  way. 
Your  Hero?  —  I? 

ELSA 

Certainly!  —  You!  A  Hero  is  one  who  does  the 
hardest  thing  and  you  have  done  the  hardest 
thing,  Philip  —  the  very  hardest! 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  135 

PHILIP 

Taking  her  in  his  arms. 

Elsa. 

There  is  a  long  silence. 

PHILIP 

Brokenly. 

I  am  not  worthy. 

ELSA 

Decidedly. 

You  are  worthy  of  all  things  —  You  are  a  Hero. 

PHILIP 

Tenderly. 

Ah!    No  —  I  am  only  a  struggling  man,  who  sees 
a  coming  light  that  all  the  world  will  some  day  see. 

ELSA 

A  look  as  of  a  white  flame  comes  into  her  eyes;  her  manner  is 
that  of  a  prophetess. 

All  the  world  will  some  day  see  —  and  that  day  is 
not  far  off! 

PHILIP 

Greatly  surprised. 

'You  believe  that? 


136  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

ELSA 

I  know  it !  I  have  changed  —  thank  God  —  I 
have  changed! 

Philip,  my  Love,  I  have  something  very  wonderful 
to  tell  you! 

With  sweet  dignity  she  takes  his  hand  and  leads  him  to  a 
settle;  she  takes  of  her  hat  and  throws  it  from  her;  then 
she  kneels  upon  the  floor  before  him  and  clasps  both 
hands  upon  his  knee. 

That  night  you  were  on  the  battle-field,  keeping 
your  vigil  beside  the  dead,  I,  too,  kept  a  vigil.  It 
was  the  same  night  —  I  compared  the  dates  when 
I  received  your  letter  —  your  beautiful  letter! 
I  cannot  explain  what  happened  —  I  cannot  under 
stand  it  —  but  I  dare  not  deny  it!  If  we  receive 
wireless  messages  from  across  the  sea,  why  may 
we  not  receive  a  wireless  message  from  the  stars? 
Why  may  we  not  receive  it  from  beyond  the  stars? 
I  will  tell  you  the  facts  exactly  as  they  happened. 
I  went  to  sleep  that  night  thinking  of  you;  Minnie 
had  had  a  letter  from  Jack  that  afternoon;  and 
she  told  me  what  fine  things  he  said  of  you,  of 
your  bravery  and  of  your  promotion  to  Lieu 
tenant; —  you  know  Jack's  amusing  way  of  put 
ting  things  —  I  laughed  in  the  darkness  —  and 
then  I  fell  asleep. 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  137 

Suddenly  I  was  awakened  by  a  call  —  I  thought 
it  was  your  voice,  calling  Elsa,  Elsa.  I  was  fright 
ened  —  O  so  frightened  —  I  jumped  up  and  ran 
to  the  window  —  it  was  dark;  there  were  clouds 
in  the  sky  —  I  knelt  at  the  window,  looking  out 
into  the  night;  and  then,  again  I  heard  the  voice  — 
and  I  knew  it  was  not  yours:  it  was  deep  and 
terrible;  it  sounded  like  a  bell  tolling  across  meas 
ureless  waters  —  but  every  word  was  clear,  dis 
tinct.  "Woe,  woe,"  cried  the  voice;  "woe  unto 
those  who  break  the  bonds  of  Brotherhood;  woe 
unto  those  who  lay  waste  the  pleasant  places  of 
the  earth;  woe  unto  those  who  fan  the  powers  of 
enmity  and  hate;  woe  unto  those  who  have  called 
false  things  true,  cruel  things  brave,  and  barbar 
ous  things  of  good  report."  Philip,  I  was  so 
frightened! 

PHILIP 

Tenderly  laying  his  hand  upon  her  head. 
Dear  Heart. 

ELSA 

Then,  all  was  still.  And  as  I  knelt  there,  it  was 
just  as  you  said  in  your  letter  —  It  was  as  though 
a  window  opened  in  my  mind;  —  I  seemed  to  see 
rivers  of  blood,  hideous  masses  of  horror,  to  hear 


138  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

the  piteous  cries  of  women  and  children  and  the 
moans  and  curses  of  those  who  died  in  the  lust  of 
battle.  I  remembered  how  I  had  thought  only  of 
the  gorgeous  surface  show  that  covered  the  ghastly 
reality ;  at  last,  I  saw  the  truth.  I  knew  —  I  under 
stood  —  and  I  was  ashamed.  I  shuddered  as  I 
knelt  there  —  I  thought  I  could  not  bear  it. 

Her  voice  breaks  —  she  is  quiet  for  a  moment  —  Philip  holds 
the  pregnant  silence;  he  does  not  intrude  upon  it  with 
a  word  or  with  a  touch. 

Suddenly,  the  clouds  lifted,  the  morning  star  rose 

clear  and  beautiful,  the  dawn  broke,  and  the  rosy 

light  came  over  the  hills. 

Then,     another    voice  —  melodious,    musical  — 

spoke  these  words  — 

"Fear  not!    Behold,  a  new  order  is  dawning  upon 

the  earth.    Wars  shall  cease.    Peace  shall  knit  the 

world  together  in  a  bond  of  common  Brotherhood." 

PHILIP 

With  deep  emotion. 

My  Beloved! 

ELSA 

I  have  told  no  one,  for  they  would  not  understand 
—  perhaps  they  would  not  believe  —  but  I  longed 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  139 

to  tell  you  —  I  began  a  letter  —  I  began  twenty  — 
but  I  could  not  write  —  it  was  too  sacred.  As  I 
was  wondering  how  I  could  write  it,  I  received 
your  letter.  When  I  read  that-— 0  Philip !- 
Then  I  knew  the  message  had  been  sent  to  pre 
pare  me  to  be  your  mate !  The  new  order  is  dawn 
ing  upon  the  earth  —  and  you  are  in  the  vanguard ! 

PHILIP 
We  are  together! 

He  kisses  her  with  exaltation. 

ELSA 

Radiantly. 

And  now,  together,  side  by  side,  we  will  watch  for 
the  Morning. 

A  shadow  comes  over  Philip's  face.    Elsa,  seeing  it,  draws 
nearer  to  him. 

ELSA 
What  is  it,  Philip? 

PHILIP 

Dejectedly. 

Elsa,  we  must  wait. 

ELSA 
Wait!    For  what? 


140  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  in 

PHILIP 
Until  I  may  claim  you. 

ELSA 

Enchantingly. 

Here  I  am,  Philip. 

PHILIP 
Taking  her  hand. 

I  must  be  able  to  take  care  of  you  —  I  must  find 
something  to  do.  I  am  penniless. 

ELSA 
What  do  I  care  for  money? 

PHILIP 

Nothing  —  therefore  I  must  care  for  it  for  you. 
I  must  find  employment.  No  one  will  have  me, 
here;  I  must  go  away.  I  may  have  to  break  stone 
or  split  wood. 

ELSA 
Putting  her  arms  about  him. 

Where  you  go,  I  will  go,  your  stone  shall  be  my 
stone,  and  your  wood  shall  be  my  wood.  I  will  — 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  141 

There  is  a  knock  at  the  door;  they  start,  rise  and  move  apart. 
Enter  Mr.  Greart. 

MR.  GREART 

Cordially. 

Your  Mother  told  me  to  come  in.  I  never  had  the 
honour  of  being  in  this  house  before. 

PHILIP 

Going  towards  him  welcomingly. 

The  honour  is  ours,  Sir. 

MR.  GREART 

Grasping  Philip' 's  hand. 
Welcome  home! 
Turning  to  Elsa. 

You  got  the  start  of  me,  my  fair  Atlanta;  I  had 
hoped  to  be  the  first  to  welcome  home  this  young 
soldier;  he  used  to  be  one  of  my  boys,  you  know. 

PHILIP 

Greatly  embarrassed. 

Mr.  Greart,  I  am  not  a  soldier  any  longer  —  I  — 

T  

MR.  GREART 
Oh!    I  know  all  about  that  —  I  saw  your  letter 


i42  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

to  Stickley.  You  don't  think  I  mean  that  kind  of 
a  soldier,  do  you?  I  mean  a  Soldier  of  the  Durable. 

Seeing  the  questioning  look  in  Philip's  eyes  and  the  response 
in  Elsa's. 

Can't  stop,  now,  to  explain  what  I  mean  by  a 
Soldier  of  the  Durable  —  Elsa  understands.  I 
have  a  matter  of  business  I  wish  to  settle,  at  once, 
without  delay. 

ELSA 
Taking  up  her  hat. 

Good-bye. 

MR.  GREART 

No,  stay,  Elsa  —  it  isn't  private.  It  is  only  that 
I  wish  this  young  man  to  take  charge  of  my  legal 
affairs.  Will  you,  Sir? 

PHILIP 

In  a  tone  of  amazement. 

Mr.  Greart  — 

MR.  GREART 

I  hope  you  will  do  me  that  favour.  You  can  name 
your  own  price  —  anything  —  anything  you  please 
—  if  you  will  only  get  me  out  of  the  clutches  of 
Stickley  and  Stowett.  I  am  sick  to  death  of  their 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  143 

dreary  demurrers,  their  tiresome  red  tape,  their 
everlasting  quibbles,  and  their  fussy  fidgets. 
I  want  a  man  with  logic  and  despatch;  one  who 
treats  the  Law  like  a  live  thing,  to  clear  the  way, 
not  block  it. 

PHILIP 

Abashed. 

Mr.  Greart  —  if  I  could  — 

MR.  GREART 

Oh!  You  can  all  right.  As  I  said,  I  saw  your  long 
letter  to  Stickley,  setting  forth  the  reasons  why 
you  left  the  army.  By  Gad,  it  was  logical !  Logical 
and  concise  —  not  a  word  too  much;  no,  nor  a 
word  too  little.  You  are  the  man  I  want. 

PHILIP 
Thank  you,  Sir. 

MR.  GREART 

I  won't  stand  in  your  way;  later  you  can  take  a 
wider  sweep.  In  fact,  my  friend  Vandeveer,  in 
the  city,  tells  me  he  will  be  looking  for  a  new 
partner  next  year. 


144  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  in 

PHILIP 

In  a  tone  of  amazement. 

Vandeveer! 

MR.  GREART 

Yes,  that  is  a  berth!  Isn't  it?  You  will  be  all 
right  with  him.  So  will  he  with  you.  I  advised 
him  for  his  own  good.  But  I  wish  you,  first.  May 
I  count  on  you? 

PHILIP 

With  dignity  and  modesty. 
I  will  do  all  I  can,  Sir:  I  am  very  grateful. 

ELSA 

Taking  Mr.  Grearfs  hand. 
You  dear! 

MR.  GREART 
There,  there,  Elsa. 

ELSA 

Bewitchingly. 

You  will  have  to  take  me,  too  —  because  —  I  — 
we  — 


ACT  in]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  145 

MR.  GREART 

Ah!  Atlanta,  I  am  not  as  dull  as  I  look.  I  took 
that  into  account;  but,  let  me  tell  you,  if  I  wasn't 
an  old  greyhead  I  shouldn't  take  you  by  proxy. 
That  young  man  would  have  to  look  out  for  him 
self. 

ELSA 

Bending  and  kissing  Mr.  Greart's  hand. 

There  is  a  little  piece  of  me  that  will  always  belong 
to  you  —  just  only  to  you  —  always,  always. 
Mr.  Greart  lays  his  hand  on  Elsa's  head. 

ELSA 

Mr.  Greart,  I  was  wrong  —  You  are  right :  War  is 
wicked. 

MR.  GREART 

I  had  no  fear  for  you.  I  knew  you  would  change 
your  point  of  view  the  moment  you  allowed  your 
logical  mind  to  think!  That,  you  had  never  really 
done.  You  took  the  symbol  for  the  substance, 
the  livery  for  the  life ! 

Through  the  open  window  the  boys  are  heardt  singing  as 
they  pass. 


146  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  in 

THE  BOYS 

Singing. 

Get  your  gun,  get  your  gun, 
And  shoot  them  every  one. 
Let  them  fly,  let  them  die, 
Let  them  perish  as  they  run. 
Get  your  gun,  get  your  gun, 
O  go  and  get  your  gun! 

MR.  GREART 

Indignantly. 

That  is  the  way  our  boys'  morals  are  stunted  and 
blunted.  It  is  abominable!  Unspeakable!  War 
is  Hell.  Even  our  generals  admit  that  —  but  they 
think  that  when  war  is  over,  the  Hell  is  ended. 
They  forget  that  the  miasma  of  Hell  spreads  over 
the  country  and  taints  the  little  children,  affecting 
them  for  life.  How  long,  O  Lord  —  how  long  will 
it  take  men  to  see  that  two  and  two  make  four? 

PHILIP 

Perhaps  they  must  wait  until  they  have  a  Vision, 
as  I  had. 

ELSA 
Or  until  they  hear  a  Voice  of  Prophecy,  as  I  did. 


ACT  m]  IN  THE  VANGUARD  147 

MR.  GREART 

Not  at  all.  All  they  have  to  do  is  to  think  to  the 
root  of  the  matter.  I  am  not  given  to  the  modern 
superstition.  I  never  had  a  revelation  in  my  life 
nor  heard  a  voice  that  wasn't  human;  and  as  for 
prophecy!  Each  man  is  the  prophet  of  his  own 
Destiny.  No,  it  is  a  simple  question  of  logic,  of 
public  economy,  of  common  sense,  of  mathe 
matics,  of  two  and  two  making  four. 

PHILIP 
I  see  that,  also,  now. 

MR.  GREART 

Moreover,  War  is  evil  because  it  breaks  the  Su 
preme  Law  of  the  Universe,  — 

PHILIP 

Questioningly. 

The  Supreme  Law  of  the  Universe? 

MR.  GREART 

The  Law  of  Harmony  —  that  is  the  Supreme 
Law.  To  break  the  Law  of  Harmony  is  the  un 
pardonable  sin. 


148  IN  THE  VANGUARD  [ACT  m 

ELSA 

Looking  archly  up  at  Mr.  Greart. 

And  Love?  — 

) 

MR.  GREART 

With  memory  in  his  eyes. 

Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  Law. 


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